


The Cleansing

by chibi_nightowl



Series: Casebook of Detective Timothy Drake [3]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Detective!Tim, Explicit Language, M/M, Murder Mystery, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:02:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 103,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8346262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: Detective Timothy Drake's next big case finds him and his partner Gannon Malloy hot on the trail of a new killer in Gotham, one who slices their victims to shreds. The clues lead Tim to the most unexpected of places, causing him to leverage tools he doesn't like to admit he even has in his arsenal...the Red Hood, Nightwing, Batgirl, Robin, and Batman.





	1. Prologue - Part One

**Author's Note:**

> ***Please Read***
> 
> This is a murder mystery that contains strong imagery of torture, mutilation, murder, and discussions of rape. It is no more graphic than one would find in a standard crime thriller or mystery novel, but as I don't believe in trigger warnings at the start of each chapter (as one would not see these in a regular book), please consider this your only warning. If this is not your cup of tea, then thank you for your interest and perhaps the next installment of Casebook will be to your liking.
> 
> This fic is rated M for all of the above, though it is a Tim/Jay fic as well.

Prologue 

The large room was dark for the most part, the only light a single bulb hanging from a dangling cord from the ceiling and creating a circle of light on the floor. It swayed slightly, side to side, in a gentle rocking motion, from some unseen air current. In the center of the circle lay a man, bound and gagged with duct-tape to a cold metal gurney. It was angled up a bit so that the man was in a reclined position rather than laying flat. 

He was a big man, relatively strong with broad shoulders and a faded tan. One could say he was attractive, with a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones, but his nose had been broken a few times too many and set poorly. The man’s head lolled to the left, then the right as he started waking up, trying to orient himself. Lanky brown hair fell across hazel eyes. His head felt fuzzy and his mouth tasted of ash. He pulled at his bonds, looking for some give. 

He growled low in frustration, the sound echoing in his head. He tried rocking the gurney with no success. The wheels were locked in place and he did not have enough momentum to tip it. 

The man stopped struggling and looked around. All he could see was within the small ring of light. The floor was covered in plastic, the edges trailing out beyond the edge of the light. 

He also realized he was completely naked. The cold air in the room prickled at his exposed skin. 

The man started struggling harder, fear starting to creep into his movements. 

“It’s no use, you know,” a cultured voice said from the darkness. “You’re not going to escape.” 

The man stopped a moment and looked in the direction of the voice. He tried to say something, but all that came out was muffled sounds. 

“What’s that you say? Who am I? What am I doing? Why am I here?” The voice trailed around behind the man, the owner walking in a circle just outside the ring of light. 

The man twisted roughly, trying to loosen an arm, a leg, anything that would help him get free. It was no use; he was bound too tightly and too well to get any leverage. 

“These are all important questions, but only the last two have any particular bearing on why you’re here. I am here because I am attempting to make the world a better place.” The voice circled around the bound man again. He redoubled his efforts to find a weakness in his bindings, but they held firm. 

“And you are here because certain scum need to be cleansed and removed from the face of this planet.” The voice went hard; the words clipped and precise, delivered in an icy tone that made the man’s flesh prickle that much more. A bead of sweat dripped down his brow and into an eye, the salt stinging a bit as he blinked rapidly. He started struggling again. 

“Struggle all you like, it’s not going to make a difference. Just like it didn’t for those girls you raped.” The voice stopped in front of the man again. It was hard and cold, sending a shiver down the man’s spine. 

The man stopped struggling and looked into the darkness in front of him. He could just make out the outline of a person, a few steps back from the edge of the light. 

“Their struggles didn’t stop you. It made you excited, turned you on even more. You don’t seem very excited right now.” The man looked down at his lap to his spread thighs and exposed dick. He looked back up quickly. 

“Definitely not excited,” the voice taunted. “A bit shriveled, I’d say.” 

The man glared. 

“Still a bit of fight in you, hmm? Well, not for much longer.” The voice in the darkness coalesced into the figure of another man. He was tall and slender, dressed all in dark clothing. He wore a heavy apron and a protective shield over his face. In his surgical-gloved hands, he held a scalpel. 

The scalpel gleamed in the light. 

The man’s eyes widened in fright and started renewing his struggles. 

A dark chuckle echoed through the room as the aproned man walked forward. 

“We’re just getting started.”

 


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One - Night One (Late afternoon and evening), Part 1 

Detective Tim Drake examined the body in front of him.

The man was naked, with stab wounds and slices all over his body. He was lying on his back, carefully spread-eagled to display the mess that remained of his genitals.

What was it with Tim’s luck that presented him with a second case involving torture in four months? At least this one was on the roof of a warehouse rather than in the stinking alley below. Gotham was in the grip of summer and making life a miserable hell for all of her residents. The late afternoon sun was sweltering and the air thick with humidity. The scent of rotting garbage wafted up from down below as the sea breeze tried in vain to move the heavy air.

He crouched down, pulling at his rubber gloves to make sure they were snug, and lifted an arm. Slices there too, very clean and precise looking.

Footsteps approached from behind him. “This guy looks like he was exsanguinated,” commented Malloy.

“It sure looks that way,” replied Tim, shifting to prod at a leg. “Take a look at these cuts. Whoever did this knew what they were doing.” He pointed at the inner thigh. “See these? One wrong move and he’d have bled out through his femoral artery rather than those slices on the carotid.”

“You’d never guess that when looking a bit more north.”

Tim winced. “I’m trying not to.”

“You and me both, Rookie.” Malloy crouched down across the body from his partner, snapping on his own gloves. “Mutilation like this usually means rage and revenge. I’m guessing we’ve got ourselves a rapist here.”

“If we’re lucky, he’s in the system already.”

“If we were lucky, we wouldn’t be looking at a man’s shredded dick.”

Tim decided to push back. “I see the dick, but where are his testicles?”

Malloy grimaced, looking at the empty space where the man’s sac should be. “I’m almost afraid to say it out loud.”

Tim looked at the man’s head, at the bulge of his cheeks. “Let’s leave that for the ME to find?”

“Deal.”

***** 

Several hours later, the detectives were back at the precinct. For once, luck was with Tim and Malloy. The man’s prints came back with a hit almost right away.

“Roger Whitaker, age 31. Arrested multiple times for breaking and entering, destruction of property, and once for public indecency. I don’t see any priors for assault…oh here it is. Page two.” Malloy flipped through the printout and let out a low whistle. “Christ, there’s six reports here of physical and sexual assault, all on prostitutes.”

Tim grimaced. “He was never arrested?”

“He was, but never charged. Lack of evidence.”

“Like hell there was no evidence.” Tim glared across his desk at Malloy.

“See for yourself.” Malloy tossed the printout at Tim. “All we have on this guy are fingerprints, no DNA samples from any of his priors.”

“A rapist who uses a condom, ha-fucking-ha.” Tim flipped through the file, reading quickly. “Son of a bitch, I know one of the victims. She works right here in New Town.”

“Part of your irregulars?”

“No, but I know her. Enough so that I’m really surprised she never said anything to me. The assault was two years ago and I was very much making myself known as a non-judgmental police officer.”

“Well, we can talk to her later and let her know that at least one predator is gone. Right now, this fucker’s dead and we have to find who did it.” Malloy leaned back in his chair and sipped at his latte. “Talk to me, brainiac.”

Tim sighed, leaned back as well, and closed his eyes, mentally going back to the crime scene. “Whitaker was left on the roof for the world to see. He wasn’t killed there, so someone had to have moved him. He’s a big enough guy that couldn’t have been easy, but there was a freight elevator in the warehouse that went all the way up to the floor just below the roof. There’s stairway access, but he would have had to be dragged.”

“He’s big enough that a woman would not have had an easy time of it,” Malloy interjected. “Unless we’re looking at a trans or a meta?”

Tim opened his eyes and shrugged, staring at the ceiling a moment. “Anything’s possible, but I think his preference runs short and pale.”

“Short and pale?”

“The victim I know. She’s a short woman with light hair and pale skin. The other victims have the same basic description according to the report.”

“So he had a type.”

Tim hummed in agreement. “Apparently. But it could just as easily be a brother, father, husband, boyfriend, son of the victims too.”

“Why now though? The last assault was over a year ago.” Malloy looked puzzled.

Tim threw the printout back at his partner. “Page three. Whitaker was just released from Blackgate two weeks ago on one of his B&E charges.”

“Think he was targeted for something that happened in prison?”

“I think someone was watching him. Waiting.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Not ready to share yet. Just a hunch.”

“What have we got on the warehouse he was found on top of?” Malloy started flipping through the file again.

“CSI is still working it, but the warehouse is coming back clean. That’s a lot of blood for someone to lose and keep track of.” Tim stared at his computer monitor. What would collect that much blood and not leave a trace?

“So you don’t think he was killed there?”

“I don’t know. All I do know is that we walked all over that warehouse with UV lights and didn’t find a thing except for some disgusting mold.”

“Yeah, that was pretty gross,” Malloy agreed.

Tim got up and stretched, working a kink out of his back. “Come on, we’ve got an address to check out. The night is young.”

“And so are we! Let’s go, I’ll drive.” Malloy stood and grabbed his latte, finishing it off and tossing the cup in the trash. “Don’t forget your man-bag.”

Tim grabbed the printout and his messenger bag, tucking it away as he slung it over his shoulder and across his chest. “You’re just too lazy to carry a crime scene kit with you.”

“Why should I when I have you?” Malloy flashed a grin at Tim as they walked to the elevator.

***** 

The address on file was from Whitaker’s parole officer. Tim looked up at the decrepit hotel on the edge of New Town and Crime Alley and grimaced. Malloy did the same as he found a spot to park.

“Hope my car is still here when we’re done,” he commented.

“This is why I should have drove,” replied Tim dryly.

“Yes, because the little red compact of yours fits in so well around here.”

“Better than this thing. You couldn’t resist a muscle car with that last raise, huh?” Tim taunted, getting out of the black Mustang.

“Fuck you, Drake.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass. Jay’ll take it the wrong way.”

“Ha!” Malloy barked a laugh as he locked down his car, making sure the security system was fully engaged before stepping up to the sidewalk alongside his partner. “How’s that working out for you? I seem to remember you telling me Jay had his fingers in a few too many questionable pies?”

Tim shrugged as they walked to the hotel entrance. He didn’t regret telling Malloy about his change in relationship status after the car wash, but sometimes he just wanted to tell him to shut up. “Being out of the game for three months solid under the care of a ‘loving family’ can change a person.”

“I’d like to meet that family. It’s great seeing you happy for once, Rookie.”

Tim smiled thinly. If only Malloy knew that Jason’s older brother was none other than Dick Grayson, adopted son of Bruce Wayne. His former partner in Bludhaven and the vigilante Nightwing. Then again, if Malloy knew Tim was seeing the Red Hood, he’d really flip his shit.

“Besides, I’d love to know if there’s anymore like him at home. You really lucked out in the looks department there.”

Tim barked a short laugh as he pulled open the lobby door of the New Town Inn and Suites. “He’s got a little brother who’s way too young and an older brother who is most definitely straight. Two sisters too, but I think they’re safe from you.”

“Damn. Well, I’ll just live vicariously through you for the moment, okay Rookie?” said Malloy as he swept past Tim into the lobby.

“Keep dreaming, partner.” Tim followed and let the door shut behind him.

The lobby was small and just as shabby looking as the outside, but surprisingly clean. There was an elevator opposite of the two detectives with a door labeled “Stairs” just to the right of it. Tim looked to his right to see the front desk.

No one was there and Tim hadn’t heard a bell when he opened the door. The sound of a television came from somewhere beyond the desk. There was a bell on the counter. “Ring for assistance,” he read from the small sign and tapped the bell.

“Just a minute!” shouted a voice. The television sounds stopped abruptly and a short wizened old man walked through the doorway. He squinted blearily at Tim and Malloy. “I don’t let hourly rooms. You’ll want to try next block over.”

Malloy scowled and Tim covered his mouth to hide a laugh. “We’re not here for a room, we’re here about one of the people been staying here the last couple weeks,” he explained, flashing his badge. Tim pulled his out as well.

“Oh. Sorry about that, the missus and I try to run a clean place here.”

“I’m sure the neighborhood doesn’t help,” Tim commented, trying to smooth things over.

“Nah, but this used to be a grand ol’ neighborhood 20-30 years ago. You can still find a few diamonds in the rough if you know where to look around here.” The old man shifted and scratched at his nose. “You young fellas are looking for someone?”

“We’re looking for Roger Whitaker. The last address we have for him is here, room 307.”

“Ah, that young fuck-up. Yeah, he checked in about 10 days back. Paying cash. Said he’d just got out of prison and was looking for a place to stay while he got back on his feet. Not many guests right now, especially long term, so we took him in. Pays every couple days, on time.”

“We’d like to see his room,” Tim said.

“Don’t you need a warrant for that?” asked the hotel owner.

“Not when he’s dead, we don’t.”

***** 

Room 307 was pretty typical of the small suites at the hotel. A bed and dresser off to one side, with a small kitchenette and bathroom in the entryway. The owner, who said his name was Joe Campbell when Tim asked, led the detectives in, shaking his head the whole time. “Just can’t believe the punk is dead.”

“When did you see him last?” Malloy asked as Tim started poking around and turning lights on. They both knew Tim was better at this kind of work. He’d chime in with his own questions if he thought of any.

“Last night. The missus and I were just finishing with our paperwork from the day when he came down the elevator. He waived to us, wished us a good night.”

“About what time was this?” Malloy continued with the questions.

Meanwhile, Tim looked over the kitchenette, pulling on his rubber gloves. There was a plate and a cup in the sink, rinsed out, but unwashed. The small burner didn’t look like it was being used and the counter was clean. Opening the fridge, Tim saw a number of different take out containers.

Opening a low cabinet, he found the trashcan with the lid firmly in place. Tim pulled it out and took off the lid. A faint odor wafted out, but he didn’t see anything in the empty can. “How often do guests have the trash picked up?”

“Huh?” Campbell looked over at Tim and the trashcan. “Oh, every three days or so. If it needs to go out more often then there’s a trash chute at the end of the hall and extra trash liners in the cabinet.”

“When was the last pick up day?”

“Three days ago. Trash rounds are tomorrow morning.”

Tim looked over at Malloy. “There’s nothing in the trash can and the fridge is full of takeout containers. Unless Whitaker took his own trash out last night, we may need to go dumpster diving.”

He turned to Campbell. “Did Whitaker take his own trash out?”

“No, not once. Though he did remember to set it out on pick up days.”

Malloy looked back at the old man. “When Whitaker left last night, did you see anyone with him? Has he had any guests?”

Campbell thought a moment. “There was a tall skinny guy asking for him about two days ago. Roger was out though; I’d seen him leave not an hour before. Didn’t seem to happy to hear that either.”

“What else do you remember about this skinny fella?” prompted Malloy.

“Seemed kinda twitchy, like he was nervous or excited about something. I thought he was hopped up on something, but I didn’t see no track marks on his arms.”

Tim chimed in. “He was wearing short sleeves?”

“Yeah, it’s been so blasted hot lately I’d think anyone wearing long sleeves would stand out. I think he was a bit older; at least, he didn’t seem young like Roger. Short hair, kind of light. Dark eyes, I remember that for sure on account of him glaring at me something fierce.”

Tim looked thoughtful a moment. The old man had a good memory. “If we got a sketch artist, think you could give us a hand with a likeness?”

“Sure can.”

***** 

Campbell was more than willing to come down to the station the next morning. He didn’t like leaving his wife alone in the hotel at night. Malloy and Tim couldn’t find fault with that.

Malloy continued questioning him, but it was quickly becoming apparent they’d about gotten all they’d get from the old man tonight. Tim continued his search around the room.

Whitaker didn’t have much, but that was to be expected from a recently released felon. There were a few changes of clothes in the dresser and a shaving kit in the bathroom. Tim didn’t see a toothbrush, but there was a bottle of mouthwash on the counter, as well as a small package of baby wipes.

On the dresser, there were a couple of matchbooks for two different bars in the area, Scratcher’s and the Alley. One in New Town, the other in Crime Alley. Tim took note of the names. There were no receipts, not even for the takeout restaurants. The containers Tim had seen in the fridge were generic enough they could have come from just about anywhere. Tim also found quite the stash of cash tucked away in the man’s socks. It explained how he was able to pay for everything at least. But where was he getting it?

“When Whitaker arrived, did he ask for any restaurant recommendations?” Tim asked Campbell as the three men walked out of the room.

“Nah, he seemed like he knew the neighborhood pretty well. Said there were a few places he was looking forward to going to again,” the old man replied.

“Did he say what these were?”

“Not that I recall.”

Tim believed him. The man was pretty on point for his age. “Okay, that’s all I have then. Malloy?”

Malloy looked at his notepad and shook his head. “We’ll need to seal off the room so we can have a CSI team come through tomorrow. That going to be an issue?”

Campbell shook his head so Tim pulled out the crime scene tape from his bag and placed it across the doorway. “I want to see the dumpster the chute empties into tonight before we go.”

“That’s around back. There’s no lights back there though.”

Malloy groaned. “You sure the dumpster diving can’t wait til morning?”

Tim grinned. “And this is why cops get the rep for being lazy in this town. We’ve got flashlights. Mr. Campbell, do you mind holding one for me too?”

The old man barked a rough laugh, coughing a bit at the end. “As long as I don’t have to do no climbing in there with ya, that’s fine.”

As the three men waited for the elevator, Malloy asked, “What’s got you so hung up with the trash?”

Tim shrugged. “Not sure. Just seems out of character for Whitaker to take out his own trash. He left last night and knew pick up was in two days.”

“So he filled it to overflowing and took it out himself.”

“Or something else happened and that trash has evidence of it.”

The elevator pinged and they got on. Tim turned to Campbell. “Did Whitaker mention anything about his health?”

“Nah, didn’t really get all that close and personal with him.” The old man looked thoughtful a moment as they got off the elevator. “Come to think of it though, he looked a bit pale last night. Kind of sweaty too. Didn’t think much of it since it’s been so hot, so we’re all sweating a bit.”

Tim nodded, thinking. “Malloy, your flashlight in your trunk?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get it. Check on my car too.” He walked across the lobby and out the front door.

“I’ll go get mine too,” said Campbell and walked away through the small door behind the front desk.

For the moment, Tim was alone. He was glad as this made it easier for him to form his theory.

He was pretty sure Whitaker had food poisoning. The trash having been taken out early was one sign, but he’d also noticed the toilet paper roll in the bathroom was almost gone as well. The bottle of mouthwash was one of the larger bottles and was almost halfway gone. The dead man hadn’t been here long enough to really go through that big a bottle, so it had to be new. The baby wipes confused him though. They were out of place in a room that screamed bachelor and ex-con.

New. All the things Whitaker owned were new. He was paying cash for the hotel, cash for his food. Tim assumed he was paying cash at the bars he frequented as well. Where were the funds coming from? What kind of work was a recently released felon with a history of breaking and entering and robbery doing?

And just who was this tall skinny guy? A colleague or someone else he was working with? Campbell said he’d been acting twitchy, which was a sign of nervousness. Or he really was hopped up on something like the old man thought.

Tim couldn’t wait to see the sketch tomorrow.

Malloy came back into the lobby cursing a blue streak and carrying a large flashlight. “My rims are fucking missing! Not even parked here 45 minutes and they’re fucking gone!”

Tim laughed. “I told you I should have drove! You’re lucky it was just the rims and not your tires.”

“Ha fucking ha, Rookie. Where’s the old man? I want to get this done and over with so I can get my baby out of this shithole neighborhood.”

Campbell chose that moment to come back out with an actual lantern. “All the other flashlights aren’t too good, but we found this left in a room a while back. Works great down in the basement so figured it’ll do the trick out back too.”

Malloy scowled. “Lead the way.”

***** 

The alley behind the hotel was almost pitch black. The night sky was clouded over, the heat and humidity from earlier coalescing into the promised storm. It wasn’t raining yet, but it was going to be soon. Tim could feel it.

Campbell’s lantern turned out to be just as good as he promised. He pointed out which dumpster was connected with the garbage chute and held the light high so Tim could see and get the lid fully open.

A horrible stench arose, making all three men cough and gag. “Ugh, ladies first, Rookie,” choked Malloy, holding his light high and angling it down into the bin.

“Fuck you,” Tim replied, girding himself for the climb. “About how many guests do you have here right now, Mr. Campbell?”

“About 15,” the old man replied. “And none of them take out their own trash.”

Tim flashed a smile. “You read my mind.” He looked back into the dumpster. “Which means that Whitaker’s bag should be here on top.”

“Right,” said Campbell. “The missus and I use the dumpster down the way. Easier to get the lid up for our own mess since we live on the first level.”

Tim nodded. He put on a second pair of gloves and took two large evidence bags from his crime scene kit to put around his shoes, securing the bags with some zip-ties.

Malloy didn’t say anything but nodded in approval. Tim knew he was thinking of the floor mats in his car.

“Okay, moment of truth,” Tim said and hauled himself up and over the side of the dumpster. Malloy and Campbell both took a step closer and shone their lights into the dumpster, giving Tim a better view of what mess he was getting into.

The container was only about half full. There was a bit of a mound from where bags fell from the chute and tumbled down to rest at the edge of the container. Most looked full, but there was one at the top of the mound that was partially empty.

For a moment, Tim wished he had some sort of claw or grip that he could use to reach over and grab the bag and reel it in to him. He bet Batman did. He always had the oddest little gadgets that came in handy at the most opportune time.

Tim took a breath and let himself drop lightly into the dumpster. He could feel the trash beneath his feet shift as he landed and took pains to not let go of the side until he felt stable enough.

“Bet that felt wonderful,” Malloy commented.

“Like landing in Jello,” Tim replied. He took a cautious step and reached over to the bag, snagging it on the first try. “I think it’s this one.”

“Whatever you say, Rookie. Hand it over.”

Tim took a step back and handed the trash bag to his partner, who promptly put it on the ground. He glanced back to make sure he didn’t miss any other possible bags. Satisfied, he hauled himself up and over the lip of the dumpster again.

Malloy and Campbell were both looking at the bag in trepidation. Tim closed the dumpster lid, then crouched down in front of the bag.

“Hold the lights up,” Tim said and started unknotting the bag.

A foul stench wafted from the open bag, making Tim’s eyes start to water and burn a bit. “Is that ammonia?” he said as he jerked his head back and started blinking rapidly.

“Whew, sure smells like it,” replied Malloy, catching a whiff. “What is in there?”

Tim collected himself and opened the bag more fully. There were a couple of takeout containers, which he expected, but there was also something wrapped in a plastic trash bag. He reached in and pulled it out.

It was small, whatever it was, but large enough he needed both hands to lift the bag out. Tim felt something _squish_ beneath his fingers. He got a sinking feeling in his stomach as he started opening the second bag.

The feeling solidified when he saw the small hand clenched in a fist. Tim quickly closed the bag and carefully set it down on the ground. He got up.

“What is it, Rookie?” Malloy asked, concern evident in his voice.

Tim held up a hand and walked quickly to the edge of the light cast from Campbell’s lantern. He braced himself against the wall of the next building and promptly threw up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did warn you, though this is the worst of it for awhile, at least in my opinion. As a reward for making it this far, Jason's in the next chapter.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who needs some fluff after Chapter One?

Chapter Two – Night One (Late, late night) 

It was very late by the time Tim walked through the front door of his apartment. Despite the warm night, he felt like he’d gone for a dive in the Gotham River in the dead of winter. He was cold, freezing in fact and more drained than he’d ever been before. When he first started as a cop, he knew the job would be demanding, not just physically, but mentally. But tonight… 

Tim sighed as he fumbled his shoes off. He knew he reeked, but couldn’t summon enough energy to care. The whole drive home he’d felt like he was wound up tighter than a rubber band. He needed to get home, wanted to be home so badly so he could finally let go and _snap_. He turned to his kitchen so he could strip down and throw his clothes in the laundry, taking a deep breath and letting it out, as he finally felt comfortable enough to let go. All he wanted was a warm shower. Perhaps then he’d finally stop feeling cold. 

Cold like the small hand he’d held oh so carefully when he’d opened the bag again to show Malloy. 

The kitchen light was on. He hadn’t left any lights on when he left earlier. Tim’s brain suddenly went into overdrive, but before he could do anything he heard from behind him, “Hey, stalker. Bad night?” 

Jason. Jason was here. 

Tim whirled around to see the larger man rising from where he’d apparently been sleeping on his sofa. He blinked rapidly and gasped, trying to fight back the choked sound rising from his throat, trying not to shout and scream and cry. Jason. He didn’t want Jason to see him about to lose control.

“Whoa, settle down there, Tim.” Jason moved towards him quickly and suddenly Tim was enveloped in Jason’s strong arms. He froze a moment, then melted, wrapping his arms around Jason’s chest and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Warm. Jason was so warm. 

The choking sounds turned into gasps, then into sobs. Tim felt his eyes burning with tears. “Let it out, Tim. Just let it out,” Jason soothed, rubbing a hand over the back of Tim’s head and running his fingers through his hair. 

Too tired to care anymore, Tim took one last gasping breath and let go, sobbing and crying for what felt like an eternity, Jason holding him through it the whole time. In his mind, all he could focus on was how warm the other man was. His warmth was burning out the cold. 

Eventually, Tim’s breathing evened out, the sobs slowing to hiccupping gasps. He took one last deep breath and hugged Jason even tighter. 

“Babs called and told me what you found tonight,” Jason said quietly, still holding on to Tim. “Thought you wouldn’t want to be alone.” 

“I-I thought I’ve seen a lot of shitty things in this city, but…but this…” Tim couldn’t bring himself to say it. An image of a tiny closed fist flashed behind his eyes. 

“The world is a really fucked up place, I know.” Tim could hear in Jason’s voice that he was thinking of the things he’d seen, the traumas he’d been through. 

He gave Jason one more tight hug, then made to pull away. He didn’t want to, not yet, but he wasn’t as cold anymore. Jason released him, but only took a small step back. Tim ran a hand through his hair and sniffed. “God, I’m a fucking mess right now. And I think I got snot all over your shirt.” 

“Yeah, but I’ll forgive you this time,” said Jason, giving Tim a small smile. “You reek, you know that, right?”

Tim gave a tired laugh. “Dumpster diving’ll do that to a man.” 

“Well your tired ass needs to strip and hop in the shower. I’ll even start the laundry for you.” Jason stepped back further, crossed his arms, and waited, watching Tim. 

Tim flushed a moment, but started undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. He and Jason had only been seeing each other a few weeks and hadn’t gone any further than some rather intense make-out sessions on the sofa. Finding time to see each other was an issue with Tim’s crazy work schedule and they decided pretty quickly that they didn’t want the rest of the Bats knowing about them either. 

“You said Babs called you?” asked Tim as he started unbuckling his belt and walking into the kitchen to empty his pockets. He set his wallet, badge, and gun in their usual places on the counter.

“Yeah, not completely sure how she knew to call me though. It’s not like I talk to her or anything.” Jason followed and leaned against the counter, still watching Tim intently, though he did spare a glance at Tim’s gun. He and Tim spent one entertaining evening last week cleaning guns together. The man approved of Tim’s work issued .45 pistol and Tim enjoyed learning how to take apart the sniper rifle Jason had brought along in addition to his usual semiautomatic handguns. He promised to bring some of his knives the next time after Tim expressed some curiosity about them. 

“I didn’t tell her about us, if that’s what you’re implying,” replied Tim. 

“I’m not. I’ve long since decided that Babs is like Alfred. She knows everything. But with her, silence can sometimes come at a price.” 

“She likes me.” 

“And that’s probably why she’s been mum on the whole thing.” 

Tim shrugged off his dress shirt and pulled off his undershirt. He quirked a brow at Jason. “Enjoying the show?” 

Jason grinned his bright Robin-like grin, giving Tim a very obvious once-over. “You know it. It’s a nice change from last time.” 

They both laughed at that and Tim turned to his laundry, not quite willing to drop his pants right in front of Jason. Not yet, anyways. “I think I’ve got enough here for a small load.” 

“I’ll figure it out, I do my own laundry like an adult, unlike an overgrown man-child I can think of. What do you want to do with your tie?” 

The dig at Dick made Tim quirk a small smile, just like the comment was undoubtedly meant to make him do. He stared at his tie for a moment. It was stained from where he vomited on part of it earlier. “Burn it. I never want to wear this one again.” 

“Always glad to light a fire. Now go, shower.” Jason made shooing motions at Tim and took the few steps needed to cross Tim’s small kitchen to his laundry. 

Tim turned to walk away when Jason snagged him by his belt-loops and hauled him close. “You’re forgetting something.” 

“Um.” 

Jason’s breath tickled in Tim’s ear as he nuzzled in close. “No teasing or sexy fun-times tonight. This is about you. Now drop the pants at least and get out of here.” 

What in the world did he do to deserve Jason? Tim took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded, undoing the button and sliding the zipper down. The khakis fell to the floor with a slight wriggle of his hips and Tim took a step to the side to get out of them, leaving him in a pair of pale blue boxers. 

Jason stepped with him, keeping his mouth on Tim’s neck as he kissed down his neck, then back up to give him a quick peck on the lips. Suddenly, Tim was abruptly turned around and pushed out of the room. He felt a light swat on his rear as Jason said, “Shower. Go.” 

Tim stumbled, but chuckled as he walked across his living room, feeling Jason’s eyes on him the entire way to the bedroom.

***** 

The shower felt amazing, even after the hot water started turning lukewarm. Tim scrubbed every inch of his body, still feeling dirty and imagining he could still smell the alley. For the longest time, he just stood there, letting the spray hit him. He tried to focus on nothing, but images kept popping into his head, like snapshots. 

The icy chill of the water finally shook him from his reverie and Tim turned it off. Stepping out of the shower, he reached for his towel and dried off. Wrapping it around his waist, he went to the sink and brushed his teeth. He could almost _taste_ the alley still. 

When he was done, Tim stood there, arms braced on either side of the sink, and just stared at his reflection in the not quite fogged up mirror. The shower must have been running cold for longer than he’d thought. 

He looked tired, he decided. Almost…hollow. His bright blue eyes were haunted and the bags under his eyes gave him a decidedly beaten look. 

There was a light knock at the bathroom door. “You all right in there, stalker?” 

Tim took one last look at himself. “Yeah, be out in a second.” 

He wasn’t beaten, he wouldn’t let this defeat him. He had a murderer to catch and another murder to solve. And if this second case took a little outside thinking to solve, well, Tim had never been one to think solely in the box.

*****  

Jason and Tim lay close together on Tim’s bed, the soft drone of a movie playing in the living room in the background. Tim was curled into Jason’s side, head resting on the larger man’s shoulder, dressed in a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Jason lay on his back, propped slightly on some of Tim’s pillows, an arm slung over his head and the other wrapped around Tim. He wasn’t wearing his shirt, having tossed it in the wash with Tim’s clothes. “So you really never sleep in here?” he asked. “Fuckin’ crime. This bed is as comfortable as sin.” 

Tim huffed a small laugh, enjoying the warmth radiating off the bigger man. “I know, but I almost always fall asleep on the sofa doing work. Which sucked with the first sofa I had, but after I splurged and got a good one, it didn’t really seem to matter.” 

Jason chuckled, the vibrations reverberating through to Tim. He loved it and snuggled in closer. “I can see that. There’re enough throw pillows out there to build a small fort too.” 

“I’ve caught you asleep on my sofa, what? Twice now? Not hearing you complaining.” 

“I can sleep just about anywhere.” Tim felt Jason shrug. “Definitely don’t mind crashing here, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome either.” 

“You’re always welcome here.” It slipped out before Tim could think about it. His brow furrowed in confusion. It should concern him that he just gave Jason an open invitation to come over anytime, to _sleep_ over here anytime. But it didn’t. It felt… _right_. 

“You sure about that, stalker? Cuz if you are, I might just take you up on it. My current apartment is a shithole and the bed’s got some broken springs.” Tim could hear the question in Jason’s voice. 

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” replied Tim. He shifted up a bit to give Jason a peck on the cheek, then settled back down. “I thought you were still at the Manor?” 

“Yeah, no. I thought I told you I bailed a week after the car wash. I had a deal with Alfie that I had to stay in the Manor for PT. As soon as that was done, I was gone.” 

“You only did two weeks of PT with Dana? Jason…” The disappointment in Tim’s voice was clear. 

“Hey, I made it clear to her from the start the time frame we were looking at. Your stepmom knew I didn’t like the Manor and gave me hell for pushing myself so hard. I got a ton of exercises to do and an appointment at her clinic next week for a follow up,” Jason said defensively. 

“Do I need to come with to make sure you go?” 

“Only if you want to stay in the closet. Somehow I doubt lil’ Timmy tagging along to my PT appointment will stay within the bounds of patient-client confidentiality.” 

“I don’t care if Dana tells my dad. She’s always been really cool about my… _life choices_ …and has talked Dad down so many times over the years.” Tim suddenly flashed to high school and chuckled. “She loved Steph while Dad just tolerated her.” 

“Then your Dad’s fucked in the head since Steph is awesome. Just took me awhile to realize it,” Jason said with a laugh. “I heard the story about the brick while I was laid up. That was so fucking hilarious I almost popped some of my stiches.” 

They both laughed at that, though Tim thought back to Jason’s early relationship with Stephanie. He’d tried to kill her a couple times. Tim had actually been dating her when Jason came back to Gotham, hell bent on revenge. It wasn’t until after Dick took Robin from Steph and she became Batgirl that they made peace with each other. He’d never heard exactly how that occurred as he’d been just starting his career as a police officer and had cut ties with the Bats for a couple years there. Stupid move, in hindsight, but after helping Stephanie find Bruce’s time-displaced ass, he felt the time had come. The only way he was going to create his own life was to let go of the old one that had never fit quite right anyway. 

The two men cuddled for a bit longer in companionable silence. Tim soaked in Jason’s warmth as the air conditioning blew cold air over them both, the cool air prickling Tim’s skin. The man was surprisingly comfortable with cuddling, something Tim always thought he’d be a bit standoffish about. In hindsight though, he shouldn’t have been surprised as Jason was almost as touch deprived as he was. 

He felt like he could sleep right there next to the big man, curled up against his broad shoulder with his arm wrapped around him, holding him tight. It would be the best sleep ever, with the former Robin shining brightly to ward away the darkness of his dreams. 

His dreams…Tim saw the tightly clenched fist in his mind again and shuddered. “Hey, none of that now,” Jason said, shifting so that he was on his side facing Tim. 

“I can’t help it.” Tim’s voice sounded small, even to him. He needed to get past this, needed to focus. This was his case to solve. His and Malloy’s. Come hell or high water, this was one case _they would solve_. 

“I know you can’t turn off that big brain of yours, but perhaps we can distract you for a bit longer.” 

Tim shook his head and looked into Jason’s beautiful blue-green eyes. “I’ve been distracted long enough. I have a favor to ask you actually.” 

“Shoot.” 

“I’ve been thinking about where exactly Whitaker was getting his money. He had nothing coming out of Blackgate and here he is suddenly paying cash for everything. Had quite the stash in his room too.” 

“You think he was peddling something?” 

“More like trafficking. I’m thinking illegal adoptions, if the baby was anything to go by. Something went wrong with this one.” Tim was proud of himself for keeping his voice from shaking. 

Jason sighed. “Yeah, that makes sense. He’d have to have an in though. That’s not an easy gig to land without someone vouching for you. Any names for me to check out?” 

“Not yet. I’m going to hit the streets in the morning to see if I can find any known associates. Malloy will likely hit Blackgate. Whitaker’s only been out a couple weeks and it sounds like he’s been paying cash almost since day one.” 

Tim could see the wheels turning as Jason thought about what he said. If there was one thing he knew, even this early on in their relationship, it was that Jason didn’t always leap into action first, then think later like so many people thought. Yes, he was reactionary, but he processed things very quickly. Although that particular trait went down the toilet when he got angry. 

After a few more moments, Jason replied. “If this is trafficking, I wonder where the kids are coming from. Don’t get me wrong, I can think of a lot of kids who’d be way better off growing up somewhere not in Crime Alley, hell, even Gotham, but that’s why we have Safe Haven laws. This kind of shit is purely for profit by someone taking advantage of people who want kids and can’t have them and people who have kids and don’t want ‘em.” 

“So you agree the kids have to be coming from the poorer parts of town?” Tim asked. 

Jason nodded glumly and didn’t say anything. Tim had a feeling he was thinking of his own fucked-up childhood and decided to change the topic. “Has the Red Hood made an appearance on the streets yet?” 

“Not yet, but I think he’s about to make his grand re-entrance into the Gotham underbelly. I’ve got questions that need answers.” Jason’s voice was laced with grim determination. 

“How’s your leg?” 

“Well enough for what I’ll be doing.” 

“Which is?” 

“Not sure yet. This kind of thing, you gotta ask around and be subtle about it. I’m not known for being subtle.” Jason chuckled. 

“No shit,” Tim shifted so that he’s lying on his side facing Jason. “I’ve got the names of two bars Whitaker had matchbooks for. Malloy and I are already planning on hitting those up tomorrow…tonight when they open.” he corrected himself, realizing it was well after midnight already. 

Jason nodded. “Where?” 

He rattled off the names. 

“Fuck, seriously? The one in New Town is pretty sketchy, but Crime Alley? You two will get eaten alive.” 

Tim shrugged. “Not like we have a choice. We’re detectives and we go where the clues take us.” 

“Fine, take New Town first, you at least have some street cred here. I’ll take Crime Alley.” 

“I thought the Red Hood was going to make an appearance?” 

“Oh I am. Here’s what I’m thinking…” Jason laid out his plan while Tim listened intently. 

“I like it. It seems very much like something you’d do too.” He pulled himself up to give Jason a kiss. “Just don’t get yourself arrested in the process, okay?” 

“Hey, that would be your partner doing the arresting. I’m certain you can talk him out of it.” Jason reached for Tim, pulling the smaller man across his broad torso so that he was straddling him. 

Tim laughed as he settled himself, resting his head just below Jason’s chin and letting his arms hang loosely around his chest. “And how do you propose I do that?” 

“You’ll figure out somethin’. Now shut up and get some sleep.” He wrapped his arms around Tim to hold him tight. Tim breathed in, enjoying the scent of the older man. He fell asleep to the smell of cigarettes, eucalyptus shampoo, and a unique scent that was simply Jason. 

***** 

Tim woke early, barely three hours after he fell asleep on top of Jason. At some point in the night, he’d slid off the older man and snuggled into his side. Jason was still sound asleep, so he quietly got up and went to his kitchen to start his coffee. 

It was going to be a long day. 

Taking a steaming hot mug, Tim went to his office and got to work. He networked into the GCPD system and looked for any files on illegal adoption rings. There weren’t many. Most were closed by Batman too if the case notes were any indication.

He took a sip of coffee and almost spit it all over his keyboard when someone spoke from behind him. 

“You’re going to be vibrating all day if you keep this up,” Jason commented with a yawn. 

“Shit, give a man some warning, why don’t you? Not all of us are trained vigilante-assassins like you.” Tim turned in his chair to glare at Jason who was settling into the love seat, sprawling out the best his large frame could in the small space. “Besides, I’m heading to work in an hour, which means I’ll be grilled for coming in so damn early, but that also means I’ll be able to hit the streets sooner. Right now, we know precisely dick about Whitaker and his movements. Time to change that.” His voice was determined, even as he swallowed a yawn. 

That didn’t escape Jason’s attention. “If you’re still going out tonight, I’m going to put my foot down and require at least a three hour nap out of you this afternoon. You barely slept.” 

“Yes, Mom,” Tim said sarcastically. 

“Shut up, I’m serious. The places you’re going tonight, you want to be on your A-game. I’m gonna do the same.” 

“You’re welcome to stay and use the bed.” Tim sipped from his coffee and stared blankly at his computer screen. He was a bit peeved that Bruce had solved so many of the illegal adoption rings instead of the police. It made him bound and determined to solve _this one first_. 

“Oh, I plan on it. Make use of my open invitation for as long as it lasts.” 

That made Tim turn his head and look in Jason’s direction. He couldn’t see his face, just his legs dangling over the side. He may be running on a few hours sleep and half a cup of coffee, but even he couldn’t miss the resigned tone of Jason’s voice. “What do you mean by that?” 

Jason sighed. “I have a tendency to break things, stalker.” 

“Do I need to lock up my PlayStation?” 

“No, your shit’s fine. I guess…I should have said people. I-I’m not really relationship material.” 

Tim quirked a brow at that. “So you go around breaking hearts?” 

“Ha!” Jason laughed. “You could say that. I don’t exactly live the most normal of lives. I have a tendency to leave before things get serious.” Jason sounded sad there at the end. 

Tim got up and walked to the love seat, leaning over the back of it to look at Jason. He had an arm up over his eyes, like he was fighting a headache, but Tim was pretty sure was an avoidance maneuver. “I didn’t see you leaving last night,” he said softly. 

“Yeah, I know. Surprised the fuck out of me too.” Jason sighed again and dropped his arm, looking at Tim. “I normally bail at the first sign of tears, but when you started…I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. But I also knew what you were upset over and it wasn’t some stupid bullshit like me never being around to go to the movies.” 

“Sounds like you’re a better man than you thought you were.” 

“We’ll see.” 

Tim thought for a moment. “In a way, we’re a lot alike. We both put ourselves out there for a city that doesn’t appreciate a damn thing we do to keep it safe. And those things we do? We can talk about it with another person who _gets it_. Did you have that with your other relationships?” 

It was Jason’s turn to look thoughtful. “No. I didn’t.” He shot Tim a cocky grin. “Okay, stalker, you’ve talked me into hanging around for a while longer.” 

Tim grinned back. “I think you just want to use me for my bed.” 

“That too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get any grief about Tim losing it in front of Jason, please keep in mind this Tim was raised by his dad and stepmom during his teen years and had a relatively healthy relationship with Stephanie, so I like to think he's got a better handle on letting things out rather than bottling them up. He was going to breakdown whether Jason was there or not to see it. Jason just helped him pick up the pieces. 
> 
> The case continues in Chapter 3. I swear each chapter just gets longer and longer... :P


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three - Day One (Early morning) 

Tim stumbled into the precinct about 7:30 in the morning, just in time for the night shift to be taken over by the day shift. As he entered the room that housed the Homicide department, a hush followed after him. Yes, these people knew Tim, but to see him here this early in the morning…they knew it had to be bad. 

Sitting down at his desk, Tim booted up his computer and pulled his tablet and a bottle of water out of his messenger bag. Jason had convinced him to not bring his travel mug, saying he already more than the prerequisite three cups to have a conversation with someone. Tim flipped him off and let Jason slip the water bottle in his bag as he got his shoes on. 

A shadow fell across Tim’s desk as he brought up his email, hoping for a preliminary report for the ME, but knowing it was still too early. He looked up to see Cassius Black, one of the more tenured day-shift detectives and biggest pain in his ass, standing over him. 

Black hadn’t been a supporter of a rookie detective coming right to Homicide, even one of Tim’s already proven talent. He was a bit old school, believing one had to work their way up through Vice or Missing Persons. Rumor had it someone pulled strings to get Tim where he was and Tim was pretty sure he knew who started those rumors. 

“Black,” Tim said flatly, giving him an even look. 

“Drake,” he replied. “Heard you lost your cookies at a crime scene last night.” The older man smirked, obviously enjoying himself.

Tim glared, but refused to rise to the bait. “Yup. So did Malloy and about half the CSI team too.”

“They’re all pussies on the night shift. Try seeing shit during the light of day.”

“Ah, you’re referring to the mangled corpse I was looking at on a rooftop yesterday afternoon. Bright day, not a cloud in the sky. Malloy and I have a bet about if the ME chokes on that one when they get around to the autopsy.” 

It was quickly becoming apparent Tim wasn’t rising to Black’s taunts. “Listen, _rookie_ , all I’m sayin’ is don’t become too attached to this case. The captain will be reassigning it soon enough to someone more experienced.” 

“And if he does, then that’s his prerogative. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” 

Black gave him a dark look and stalked away. 

Tim returned to his still empty email box and started a draft to send to Malloy with his case notes and theories. 

The big one was that Whitaker was involved in some kind of illegal adoption ring where the current delivery suddenly went south. It made no sense for Whitaker to kill the kid, so Tim assumed something had happened to the baby and the man panicked. That would explain the appearance Campbell had described instead of Tim’s initial food poisoning idea. 

And where did the tall skinny guy fit in? Was he with the buyer or seller? Did he know something had happened to the baby and was sent to take it out on Whitaker? Tim looked at the clock. Campbell was supposed to be in about 9:00 to meet with a sketch artist. Hopefully that would shed some light on things. 

Right now, the skinny man was the best lead they had. 

According to the files Tim pulled from the GCPD servers, most of the illegal adoption rings in the city had both an unsavory and an upscale element. He was hoping finding a clue at one of the bars would lead to the other. 

There was a very narrow window of opportunity here where Tim could get a step up on Bruce. He had a feeling this was a case Batman would find interesting. The man couldn’t go out in the day to the places Tim could. He planned to make the most of it. 

As Tim typed up his email, he heard his name shouted from across the room. “Drake! My office, now!” a loud voice boomed over the morning din of the bullpen. 

It was his captain, Thomas Pierce. The white haired old man was just as old school as Detective Black in some ways, but was a lot more progressive in others. It was thanks to Captain Pierce that Tim was assigned to Homicide when he first got his detective’s shield. At the same time, the old coot was tough as nails and Tim was very glad he rarely had to go in front of the man. 

Today was not one of those days apparently. He wasn’t surprised, considering what had fallen in his lap the night before, and seeing him here this early had certainly sent tongues wagging. 

Tim quickly saved the email draft and locked his computer. He grabbed his tablet and walked across the room. It was silent, no one was even pretending to work as he passed their desks. It was almost like a walk of shame but Tim knew he had nothing to be ashamed of. 

It wasn’t like he’d thrown up on the trash bag with the body in it. 

Captain Pierce seated himself back at his desk. “Shut the door and sit down.” 

Tim closed the door, catching Detective Black’s eye as he did. The man looked positively gleeful. Sitting down, he settled his tablet across his knees. “Good morning, sir,” he said respectfully. 

“Good morning, Drake,” the captain replied, shuffling some papers on his desk and pulling up something on his computer. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before noon, even with that Black Mask case a few months back.” 

“I’m not much of a morning person,” Tim replied, fighting the urge to fidget under the old man’s assessing look.

“You haven’t been to bed yet.” It wasn’t a question. 

“I tried. Got a couple hours…” Tim trailed off and shrugged. 

“I get it. Every detective here has had a case that caused them sleepless nights. Just don’t make a habit of not sleeping.” 

“Not planning on it.” 

“Good. Now that that’s out of the way, what did that insomniac brain of yours come up with?” Pierce had been working with Tim now for almost seven months. He knew very well the leaps and bounds the young detective could make, given enough time to think things through. 

Tim opened his notes on his tablet and handed it across the desk to his captain. As Pierce started reading, Tim started explaining. 

“…The two bars Whitaker frequented don’t open until about 3 in the afternoon, but I’m pretty certain the people I want to talk with won’t show until later. I want to hit the streets hard today and see what I can find from my network about Whitaker. Anything extra I can learn will help immensely tonight.”

“And what’s your plan for Malloy? I’m hearing a lot of “I” instead of “we”.” 

“While I’m pounding the pavement, I think Malloy should go to Blackgate and see if he can learn anything about Whitaker there. Who he knew, who he hung out with, who he fought with, etc. We can meet this afternoon, compare notes, then start bar hopping.” 

The white haired captain nodded, a small smile appearing on his face briefly. He handed the tablet back to Tim. “Sounds like you’re all set then. What do you need from me?” 

“I’ve got Joe Campbell coming in soon to meet with a sketch artist. If Malloy’s not here yet, I need that sent to me as soon as possible. If you have any pull with the ME’s office, I’d really like to know how that baby died sooner rather than later. Age would be good too, even just a preliminary guess.” 

“I’ll do what I can.” Pierce looked thoughtful a moment. “Drake, I want you to know I’m not reassigning either of these cases from you and Malloy. I don’t care what the peanut gallery is saying, you two are my best detectives and I want you on this. In fact, these two cases are your priority.” 

Tim’s eyes widened in surprise. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot, especially with what I heard coming in here this morning.” 

“Yeah, Black just needs to pull his head out of his ass and look at the board more often. There’s a hell of a lot more black under you and Malloy than under him and Simpson. Just don’t forget you’re part of a _team_ and go gallivanting off on your own again. I don’t want a repeat of what happened with the Snakes.” 

“No, sir, it won’t. Where I have to go tonight, I really want someone watching my back.” 

“Good. Now get out of here and get to work. Try and grab a nap when you can today.” 

“You’re not the first person to tell me this today,” said Tim as he stood up. 

Captain Pierce laughed. “Nice to know you’ve got someone at home.” 

Tim flushed. “We’re still working that out.” 

“She able to deal with your job?” 

Tim didn’t try correcting Pierce on the pronoun. Malloy may be openly gay, but Tim didn’t feel like explaining bisexuality to his coworkers, not today. “So far, so good,” he said. 

“Good, now get.” The two men shook hands and Tim walked out of the office, closing the door carefully behind him. 

As he walked across the room to his desk, Tim made a special point to smirk at Detective Black. He thoroughly enjoyed the scowl the older man directed at him.

*****  

Tim was almost through with his notes when an email appeared in his inbox. It was from the CSI team with the preliminary report from the warehouse _and_ from the alley. He blinked in surprise at that. He hadn’t been expecting the alley report until at later this afternoon or even tomorrow morning. Looks like the Baby Doe case lit a fire under the just as jaded lab techs at the crime lab. It gave him hope the autopsies would be done soon too.

He pulled up the warehouse file and started reading. It was short, almost depressingly so. Other than Whitaker’s body up on the roof, the building was clean. There was no trace of anything indicating the murder happened there. Tim narrowed his eyes as he thought. 

It made no sense for the body to be hauled to that specific location and put on view for all to see and the birds to pick at. Moving a man of Whitaker’s size took time and effort, so why waste time killing him elsewhere just to move him there? If the murder did occur at the warehouse, then the scene was cleaned up so well the cops couldn’t find a trace of it. That kind of work spoke either of very careful planning or this was a professional job. Tim grimaced at that thought and made a note to see if Whitaker had any ties to the different mobs that controlled various parts of the city. In New Town, as well as Burnley, that would the Italian mafia under Falcone. The younger one, not the older one. He’d been busted a few years back for tax evasion, much like Al Capone. 

Tim really didn’t want this to become a mafia case. If it did, chances were likely the Feds would get involved. He hoped Malloy would get here soon. His trip to Blackgate today would confirm or deny that theory. 

If it wasn’t the mob, then whoever did kill Whitaker did a bang-up job on the clean up. He’d walked almost every inch of that warehouse before he and Malloy headed back to the station and hadn’t spotted a thing out of place. 

Or did he? Much like Barbara, Tim had an eidetic memory. He leaned back and closed his eyes, focusing his thoughts back to yesterday afternoon. It wasn’t all that long ago, yet it felt like forever. He put himself back at the warehouse, walking back and forth, looking for anything that seemed out of place. The warehouse was mostly unused, one of what felt like hundreds of abandoned buildings in Gotham. There was the usual dust and dirt, unwelcome cobwebs. Above the wide-open storage space, a metal catwalk hung overhead and flickering florescent lighting above that. 

Had there been a spot cleaner than the rest? If there was, it had been ruined by the time Tim got there to view the body. The spot in front of the elevator made the most sense as there was less dust there than anywhere else and it was close to the docking bay doors as well. Opening his eyes, Tim made another note to go back to the scene and check it out. Perhaps he had missed something. 

He pulled up the other file. It was also depressingly short. 

Nothing else in the dumpster, but that was to be expected. The trash bag the baby was in had a couple soiled diapers in it too. Tim scowled at that. While finding who killed Whitaker was a priority, he was much more interested in finding out who this baby was and finding its murderer. The callous disregard of the child by Whitaker made Tim dislike him even more. 

The man’s room came back clean too. A number of prints had been lifted, but the majority of them came from the murdered man. A couple of unknowns were lifted, but Tim’s gut told him they’d come back as Joe Campbell’s and his wife, Vera. Tim had the chance to meet her last night while waiting for the CSI team. She was a tough old cookie, much like her husband. She’d been a mixture of livid and horrified at what they’d found out back. 

She also made one hell of a cup of coffee. 

Malloy walked in just as Tim finished putting together the case notes and sending the email with his plan to his partner. The man looked dead on his feet, his normally bright and cheery face looking just as drawn and haggard as Tim’s. “Hey.” 

“Hey,” Tim replied. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. Malloy took a seat, crossing his legs and leaning back. “No sleep either?” 

“Nope.” 

“Got called to the captain’s office already. These two cases are our priorities over everything else.” 

“Good.” Malloy sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. His blue eyes were blood-shot. He didn’t do well with all-nighters, unlike his partner. “Lay it on me, what’s our plan?” 

Tim started explaining and Malloy nodded, making appropriate “hmms” at the right points. “I can’t find any holes, so let’s do it. I’ll call over to Blackgate and speak with the warden. Think I might make a field trip of it, there’s no way in hell I want to sit here all day.” 

“Likewise. Catch up over lunch?” 

“Yeah. The diner?” 

“See you at 1.” Tim packed away his tablet and phone into his messenger bag and slung it across his chest. He needed to make a quick stop to the locker room and change from work clothes to street clothes. 

“See ya,” said Malloy as Tim rounded the desk. The man didn’t move other than the flap of his hand in Tim’s general direction. 

Tim stopped and looked at his partner. “Hey. You gonna be all right?” It was pointless to ask if he _was_ all right; it was pretty obvious Malloy _wasn’t_. 

“I will be when we find this trafficking motherfucker,” Malloy growled. He ran his hand through his blonde hair. Tim noticed that, for once, it wasn’t styled at all. It was at least clean though, which told Tim his partner wasn’t too far gone. The taller man straightened up in the chair and squared his shoulders. “Okay, sulking is done. I’m on it.” 

“Good. I can’t do this without you.” 

Malloy cracked a smile at that. “Yeah you can, it’d just take you a bit longer. You’re the one cop in this room that doesn’t need a partner.” 

“That’s not true,” Tim protested. “Who else is going to keep me from running in head first without seeing what’s through door number one?” 

Malloy waved his hand at Tim again, brushing off the statement. “Jay, to start. That guy’s built like a fucking brawler…” he trailed off, thinking about something. “You know, perhaps we should bring him with tonight. Some of the places we have to go, perhaps he can grease the way. You said he used to be in some questionable business around here.” 

“Yeah,” replied Tim, thinking quickly. “He’s a civvie though.” 

“Again, he looks like he could be hired muscle for any number of bosses around this city. Hell, he’s smart enough he could probably be a boss for all I know.” Malloy looked right at Tim, whose heart suddenly leaped into his throat. 

“Like I said last night, he’s reforming. Prolonged exposure to his family and all that,” Tim said evenly. 

“Not to mention seeing a police detective.” 

“That too.” 

“So, you going to ask him or not?” Malloy probed. 

“Fine, I’ll talk to him. No promises though.” 

“That’s all I ask. Catch ya later, Rookie.” With that, Malloy got up and walked over to his own desk, pulling out his old fashioned rolodex and picking up the phone. Tim watched him a moment longer, and then left.

***** 

Walking out of the station in his street clothes, Tim pulled out his phone and looked at it. He knew Jason would be asleep and didn’t want to wake him, so he sent him a quick text telling him to call him as soon as he was up. 

Tim squared his shoulders and hit the streets. 

New Town was his beat, had been since he was 18. There wasn’t a part of this borough he didn’t know, even the rooftops. As such, it really pissed him off that something like this happened on his watch. Chuckling to himself, Tim figured this was how Batman felt about all of Gotham. 

It was way too early for the streetwalkers to be out, but the homeless were out in full force, panhandling and begging as people rushed to work. As he walked, Tim couldn’t help but notice the distinct differences between those who had somewhere to go and those that didn’t. There was a feeling of urgency in the air, something he hadn’t seen since he started working his mid-shift. It was different from the evening when people went home; they felt almost joyous. 

Shaking his head in amusement, Tim got to work. 

The next couple of hours weren’t very productive in his opinion. Very few of his current irregulars were out this early and those that he did find knew nothing. It wasn’t surprising, Tim figured. Whitaker’s activities were much more clandestine and night oriented, but considering his history, he’d been hoping for _something_. 

Tim hoped Malloy was having more luck at Blackgate. 

Deciding it was time for a break, Tim went to a coffee shop and ordered an iced green tea. He smirked as he sat there and drank it, knowing Jason would never believe him unless he showed him proof. Pulling his phone out, he took a picture and sent it to Jason, making sure his name was prominent on the side of the clear plastic cup.

Less than a minute later, the phone started ringing. Smiling, Tim answered it. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” Jason’s voice sounded like he’d just woken up, deep and kind of scratchy. This was the first time Tim heard his boyfriend sound like this. He decided he liked it. 

“Didn’t think that would wake you up.” 

“Nah, I was already starting to get up when it came.” Jason yawned. “Didn’t think you’d drink tea.” 

“It’s hotter than blazes already and muggier than yesterday. That storm last night didn’t do anyone who has to be outside today any favors.” Tim took a sip from his tea.

“I saw your text. Something come up?” 

“Yeah. So get this…” Tim filled Jason in about what happened at the precinct and Malloy’s odd request. 

“So your partner thinks I can grease some wheels tonight for you as I am, huh?” 

Tim nodded, despite knowing Jason couldn’t see it. “Yep. You and I both know otherwise, but I can’t figure a way out of this without lying.” 

“You lie to your partner all the time, what makes this any different?” Tim could hear Jason shifting on the bed, a light moan coming across the line as the man stretched. He suddenly felt tired, all the nervous energy from earlier draining away to be replaced with a desire to curl up and sleep next to the other man. 

Ignoring the feeling, Tim replied. “The difference is that he’s got a good point about you coming as you are. That mug of yours could open some doors.” 

“Yeah, but you have a bug up your butt about solving this case before B. And that means you need me in my mask. Actually, the full hood I think, if Malloy is going to be around.” Jason’s voice was serious. 

Tim sighed. “You’re right. I’ll make up a family dinner excuse. It can be someone’s birthday and you can’t bail.” 

Laughing, Jason replied. “You do realize that your birthday is in a couple weeks, right?” 

Tim blinked in surprise. “How the hell did you know that?” 

“Dickiebird. He mentioned it towards the end of my house arrest.” 

“Great. Just what I need right now,” Tim replied dryly. 

“Hey, I’m not planning anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Jason sounded defensive. 

“No, I’m not. But I’m sure Dick is. He tries every year to do something for me and I almost always manage to find an excuse for him not to.” 

“Almost?” 

Tim laughed. “I let him win the year I turned 21.” 

Jason laughed loudly. “Oh man, I bet that was either an awesome or an awesomely horrible night!” 

“A little bit of both.” Tim chuckled. “Anyways, I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll use the birthday excuse for one of your brothers. Check in with me before you go out tonight and I’ll send you an ETA for when we hit Crime Alley.” 

“Sounds good, but I want to hear that story later.” 

“You will.” 

As Tim hung up, he shook his head, amazed yet again at just how _easy_ things were with Jason. Tonight would be interesting as it was going to be the first time he would meet up with Jason as the Red Hood since they started going out. 

And Malloy would be there too. 

Tim grimaced. It would be worth it, especially if Jason did manage to find something. 

He kept repeating that to himself for the rest of the morning. 

*****  

Tim walked into the diner. His feet hurt, his head hurt, and he needed caffeine. Malloy waved from a table over in the corner. Two coffee mugs were already on the table. 

“Mine better be full,” Tim growled, sliding into the bright red booth. 

His partner grinned. “Ellie filled it up as soon as we saw you coming up the sidewalk.” 

“She’s a saint.” Tim sipped slowly, blowing on the hot liquid. 

“So you’ve said many times. Who gets to go first?” Malloy looked exhausted and rumpled, something Tim didn’t think he’d ever seen before in the almost seven months they’ve been working together. 

Tim waved his hand at Malloy. “I’m pretty certain you’ve had much more luck than me.” 

“Wow, really? Okay then, here’s what I got…” Malloy pulled out a notepad. “Whitaker’s been in and out of Blackgate for the last 10 years, so he knows the routine. He’s friends with some of the lifers, as well as a lot of the guys who are in and out as much as he is. So he’s got connections. He does a favor for someone, they do one for him.” 

“Like a damn brotherhood,” Tim muttered. 

Ellie came over and took their orders. She also placed two large glasses of water in front of them. “Drink up, boys. It’s hotter than hades outside, you don’t need to be drinking hot liquids.” 

Both men dutifully took large sips from the water. “Thanks, Ellie.” 

Nodding, she walked away. 

“Anyways, the impression I got is that Whitaker’s death won’t rock the boat much. He’s easily replaceable.” 

“Did you get any names to check on?” 

Malloy nodded, looking at his notepad. “Gavin Piper, Milo Mitchell, and Travis Raymond.” 

Tim thought a moment. “I know Mitchell’s name, but that’s it.” 

“Lucky for us, he’s the only one who’s on the outside right now. Got out about two months before Whitaker. I’m thinking we go knocking on his door. I got his information from his parole officer, he’s over in the Bowery.” Malloy took another large sip of water. 

Tim grinned, large and toothy like a shark. “Sounds good to me. Does he have any known mob connections at all?” he asked, remembering his earlier thoughts about this being a professional hit job. 

Malloy shook his head. “Not that I found. Why?” 

Taking another sip of his coffee, Tim explained his earlier theory. 

“It’s worth checking into,” he said. Settling back in the booth, Malloy put his notepad aside and crossed his legs under the table. “You talk to Jay at all about tonight?” 

Drinking his water, Tim nodded. He hadn’t realized just how thirsty he was. “He can’t come. It’s his little brother’s birthday today, so he’s got a family dinner tonight. Said he promised the little shit he’d stay and watch some new cartoon. His words, not mine.” 

Inside, Tim couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of Jason and Damian sitting together and watching a cartoon. He’d put money on that if it ever happened, it’d be some edgy or post apocalyptic anime like _Ghost in the Shell_ or _Akira._ No Disney or Pixar for those two, much to Dick’s dismay. 

Malloy frowned. “Damn, I really thought he would.” 

Tim shrugged. “Said he’d rather join us than go to the party, but he is trying to mend fences. I can’t blame him.” The lies slid smoothly from Tim’s mouth. He felt a bit guilty, but it wasn’t like he could tell his partner the actual truth. That their backup and greaser was going to be none other than the Red Hood. 

“All right,” Malloy sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No use crying over it. Let’s eat, then go pound on some doors.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it hasn't become obvious, I embraced the idea of original characters with this story. I love one of them and despise the other, but he's there for a plot point that needs to occur much later on. And besides, who hasn't worked with a complete and utter tool at some point in their professional career?


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has gotten way too big for me to juggle completely on my own, so I want to give a special shout out to oldmythologies for the beta work!

Chapter Four – Day One (Afternoon) 

Tim looked up at the dilapidated apartment building and inwardly cringed. It looked more like a tenement building and was just a step or two up from being condemned. “I feel like if I walk in there, I’m going to put my foot through the floor if I step wrong.” 

Shaking his head, Malloy walked up the steps. “Then I’d fall through the floor first. I’ve got about five inches and 40 pounds on you. Come on.” 

Tim scowled. “You are not five inches taller than me. You’re three, you six-foot clown.”

“Oh, touchy about his height, huh?” Malloy tossed a grin over his shoulder at Tim. “I’m going to remember that.” 

“Whatever,” he muttered as they walked in. Looking around, mailboxes were on the left, what looked like an office on the right, and the stairs started at the back of the foyer. Everything was shabby looking, to the worn down carpet runner in front of the mail boxes to the yellowing paint cracking and peeling along the walls. 

“No elevator,” Malloy commented as he eyed the stairs. 

“Time to start working out then. If you’re 40 pounds more than me, then there’s a bit of chub hiding beneath that suit.” Tim snarked as he started up the stairs, this time with Malloy muttering darkly behind him. 

Mitchell’s apartment was up on the fourth floor. The hall light flickered as Tim approached, casting the same sickly looking paint as downstairs into a color reminiscent of mucus. Tim grimaced as he looked around. Behind him, Malloy was breathing a bit heavy as he stepped up onto the landing with his partner. 

“Nice place,” he huffed lightly. 

Shrugging, Tim looked to the right, then left, trying to figure out which way Mitchell’s apartment was. He spotted the number and letter pattern quickly and turned to the right. They were looking for 4K. 

Down the hallway and another turn to the right, Tim spotted the door they were looking for. He looked back at Malloy to make sure the man was breathing normally again and raised his hand to knock. A few sharp raps with his knuckles, the two detectives waited. 

“He might be out,” Tim said. 

“Not likely. His parole officer said he was having a hard time finding work and was shacking up with an old girlfriend.” 

Tim tried again, a little harder this time. The closed door opened gently, the latch slipping out of place. Surprised, he pulled back his hand. “Hello?” he asked in a loud voice. “This is Detective Drake of the GCPD. I’ve got a few questions for Milo Mitchell. Is he here?” 

Silence answered him. 

From behind Tim, Malloy said in a low tone, “This is Gotham, people don’t go around leaving their doors unlocked.” 

Tim nodded his head in agreement, studying the door. “This place is crap, but the doors are at least sturdy. We going in?” 

“Yeah. Let’s announce ourselves one more time.” 

Taking a hold of the doorknob to hold the door in place, Tim knocked again. “This is Detectives Drake and Malloy of the GCPD. We’re looking for Milo Mitchell. You here, Mitchell?” 

Silence again, but then Tim heard what sounded like a groan. He pushed open the door. Behind him, Tim knew Malloy had his gun out and pointed at the floor, ready to swing it up into a ready position at any moment. 

The small studio was a relatively neat and tidy, but over by the small kitchenette, there was broken glass scattered all over the place. Tim’s eyes zeroed in on the brown haired man lying on the floor in a small pool of blood. “Fuck,” he cursed, rushing in and kneeling just on the edge of the blood staining the ancient linoleum. 

The man groaned again. 

“Malloy, Mitchell’s still alive. We need a crew here _now_.” Tim reached out to the man, recognizing only distantly that Malloy was on his phone with dispatch. “Hey there, Mitchell,” he said in confident voice he knew he couldn’t fake for long. “It’s Drake. The little police officer you loved to pick on until he busted your ass for possession and disorderly conduct. We’re calling 911 for you. You’re going to be all right.” 

Mitchell was sprawled on the floor, face down, and legs askew like he simply fell over where he’d been standing. His stained t-shirt was torn and blood stained and Tim could see rips in the man’s jeans he was pretty sure came from a knife. He was hesitant to roll the man over, but he couldn’t spot any visible damage from the back. 

Malloy crouched down next to him. “ETA is 10 minutes. What do you think happened?” 

“I think he’s got a gut wound,” Tim replied grimly. “Look where the blood pool is. I want to roll him, but we’ll need a compress. See if you can find some clean towels.” Malloy got up quickly and started rummaging around. 

The man on the floor let out another inarticulate groan. “Yeah, I know, Mitchell, rolling over is the last thing you want to do, but we need to get you ready for the paramedics.” 

“Draaake,” the man hissed out. 

“Nice to see you remember me too. Just hold on, I’m not going to let you die on me.” 

“Ro…Roger…He…dead…” Mitchell struggled hard to get the words out, legs twitching as he tried to move and curl himself in around his torso. An arm was already wrapped tight around his abdomen. It looked like he fell that way. 

Tim nodded. “I guess you heard through the grapevine I’m on his case. Yeah, Roger’s dead. Someone filleted him pretty good. Do you know who did it?” He felt shitty for asking, but he knew keeping Mitchell talking would help keep the man focused on him rather than on his gut. 

“N…No… Rog…ba…by…not k…kill.” 

_How does he know about the baby?_ “Roger didn’t kill the baby, that what you’re saying?” Tim asked. Behind him, he could hear Malloy approaching again. 

Mitchell twitched in what Tim thought was his attempt at nodding. “Didn’t…kn...know...wha…ta…do.” 

“Did Roger come to you the other night? After the baby died?” Tim rested a hand on the man’s shoulder, gripping it firmly in hopes to lend some sort of strength or support to the man who was slowly slipping away from him. 

Another twitch. “…ss…yes…” 

“Where did he get the baby? Who’s his contact?” Tim asked urgently. 

The man moaned in response. 

“He’s not going to last much longer without help,” Malloy said from over Tim’s shoulder.

“I _know._ ” Tim focused on Mitchell. The stocky man had already been pale when Tim found him, but now he was ashen. “Let’s roll him and get the compression on him.” 

The detectives took their places, Tim at Mitchell’s head and shoulders and Malloy down by the waist and hips. “One, two, three,” Tim muttered as he pulled gently, but firmly on the man’s upper body, keeping Mitchell’s head supported by angling his leg beneath it. 

The view from the front confirmed Tim’s suspicions. “Shit.” He took in the red, viscous mess on Mitchell’s torso. The shirt was so tacky with blood, it was clinging to the man like it would have if he’d had a bucket of water thrown at him. 

Malloy shoved a towel at him. “You’re better at this medical stuff than I am. I’ll get his head. Press already, dammit!” 

Shaking his head, the men switched places and Tim pulled up the shirt. And wished he hadn’t as he could _see_ things no man was ever meant to see on a live person. He quickly folded up the towel and laid it across the slashed entry wound into Mitchell’s abdomen. Resting on his knees, Tim leaned in and started putting pressure on the towel. He could feel blood soaking into his jeans. 

Mitchell was gasping now. “Duh… _rake_ …” 

“Drake’s still here,” Malloy told the man. “He’s busy holding your guts in place right now.” 

The gasping man opened his eyes for the first time since they entered the apartment, able to look right at Tim from the way his head was being held by Malloy. “Ge…Germaine. Ro…ss. Si…Sin…clair. Con…tact. Ki…kids…go…there.” 

Tim didn’t break eye contact with the dying man. “Germaine Ross. Sinclair? He’s the one the baby’s are delivered to?” He could hear the sound of sirens cutting through the air now. The paramedics were finally here. 

Mitchell nodded, brown eyes glazing over and yet looking desperate at the same time. “B…boy… _mine_ ,” he gasped out before his eyes went empty. 

_“NO!”_ Tim shouted as he leaned harder onto the wound. “Check his pulse, dammit!” 

Malloy quickly complied. “Fuck, Tim…Did he just say that kid we found last night was _his?_ ” 

“That’s what I fucking heard,” Tim growled, glaring at the body beneath him. He could hear footsteps pounding down the hallway. 

Help had finally arrived, but it was too late. Milo Mitchell was dead.

*****  

An hour later, Tim watched the CSI team work their way through the small studio. He felt exhausted and sick to his stomach. Next to him, Malloy looked much the same, though less bloody than Tim. The paramedics had given them wipes and towels to clean up with so as to avoid contaminating the crime scene more, but there wasn’t much those could do for the blood slowly fading to a dark reddish brown mess on his jeans. 

It was a reminder of his failure. 

Behind them, someone coughed, getting the attention of the two detectives. Turning, Tim saw Captain Pierce and a petite woman he recognized as Captain Tina Mendoza of the local precinct here in the Bowery. She was of Hispanic descent, born and raised right here in the Bowery, and she did not let her size get in the way of bulldozing her way through a force that had one of the highest number of crooked cops in the entire city. Gordon had done well in choosing her to clean up the Bowery. She’d also been one of his instructors while at the police academy. She was someone he respected and seeing her here calmed his nerves a bit. 

“Malloy. Drake.” Pierce nodded at them both. “You know Captain Mendoza.” 

Nodding in return, Tim held out his hand to the captain. “I do. It’s been awhile, Captain.” 

“Too long, Drake. Congratulations on getting your detective’s shield.” She shook his hand firmly. 

“Thank you.” 

Malloy held out his hand as well. “Captain Mendoza.” 

“Detective Malloy,” she replied in greeting. 

Pierce looked around at the studio, taking in the bloody mess on the floor and the state of Tim’s clothes. “Talk to me, boys. What the hell happened here?” 

Being the senior detective, Tim let Malloy do the explaining. 

When he finished, both captains were shaking their heads in amazement. “The baby from last night was _his?_ What the hell is wrong with this picture?” Pierce growled out, running a hand through his thick white hair. The man may be getting up there in age, but it only showed in his hair color. 

Mendoza was watching Tim. She knew full well what he was capable of. “Drake. You’re awfully quiet. I remember that look…you want to come out and say something brilliant but are biting your tongue for whatever reason.” 

Tim shook his head ruefully. “I’m not sure if it’s brilliant or not, Captain. I just…where is Mitchell’s girlfriend? His parole officer said this was her place. If the baby we found is his kid, wouldn’t it be fair to assume she’s the mother? If so, then where is she?” 

Malloy and Pierce nodded in response. Mendoza continued to stare levelly at Tim. “What else?” 

Given the invitation, Tim continued. “The girlfriend has a baby she doesn’t want and Mitchell doesn’t either. His pal Whitaker knows someone and somewhere he can go with said kid and get a handsome payment in return. He tells his prison buddy the details and makes the necessary arrangements. The baby is handed over and suddenly dies before Whitaker can make delivery. He panics and disposes of the body at his hotel, leaving in a hurry, probably to this Germaine Ross to tell him what happened. What I can’t piece together is _why_ this would get Whitaker sliced and diced and displayed on a warehouse rooftop for the gulls to pick apart.” 

“You have a theory. You wouldn’t be this jumpy if you didn’t,” Malloy prodded Tim. 

Tim sighed. “I think Whitaker’s murder was completely separate from the rest of this. It doesn’t fit. Who ever killed him took their time. They wanted him to suffer for something and this mutilation tells me it was for the sexual assaults we could never pin on him.” 

“Two, now three, different crimes.” Pierce shook his head. “I don’t like it, but it makes sense. More so than anything else I’ve come up with on my own.” 

Mendoza nodded, a thoughtful look on her face. “But who killed Mitchell?” 

Malloy stepped in. “Perhaps it was the girlfriend. Look at this place. There was a struggle, yes, but none of the big furniture is broken, just a bunch of glass. Maybe she got lucky, stabbed Mitchell, then ran. Perhaps she wasn’t so sanguine about her kid being sold off for cash.” 

Wheels turning, Tim nodded slowly. “We need to find her.” 

“And we will,” said Mendoza in a firm voice. “But I think you two have the more important aspect of this case to continue pursuing. You need to focus on finding Germaine Ross and figuring out what “Sinclair” means. Let me get one of my best over here take over this part.” 

“I agree,” Pierce said firmly. “A good lead came from this mess and you still have the bars to checkout tonight too. You’re done here. Go home, clean up, and try getting some damn sleep before you hit the streets tonight. I talked to the deputy ME on my way over here; the autopsies are almost done and the preliminary report will be on my desk in a couple hours. I’ll forward copies to you both.” 

Mendoza nodded in agreement. “We’re counting on you, detectives. Solve this fast and smart so we can throw the fucking book at this asshole.” 

Tim and Malloy grinned widely, the first positive reaction they’d had since they first entered this building what felt like hours ago now. “It’s the only way we know how,” Malloy smirked.

*****  

Tim lounged on his sofa, back up against the cushioned arm with his laptop in his lap. He’d been home about four hours and had been surprised to find he actually slept for most of that time. Upon arriving home, he immediately stripped down, putting his jeans in a trash bag to give to Jason later. He liked setting things on fire; he could burn those along with his tie from last night. A quick shower later and he was out like a light.

A pot of coffee was brewing, but he wanted to get started on his research into Germaine Ross and Sinclair. Germaine Ross was a dead end, but Ross Sinclair yielded some results. As did searching for Germaine by itself. 

Aside from a Germaine street down in Old Gotham, the only local reference he found was the Club de St. Germaine in Bristol. It was a high-end club for Gotham’s elite. Members included the Waynes, Davenports, Kanes, the crème de la crème of Gotham society. The Drakes used to have a membership before Drake Industries went under. Tim remembered going there a couple of times as a child with his parents for some event or other. 

There was no way in hell two detectives from New Town were going to get any answers from anyone in that club unless they had an in. 

And boy did Tim have an in. The question was, did he want to use it? The name Bruce Wayne could open doors and mouths faster than flashing a police badge could in this town. But Tim had spent a lot of time and effort distancing himself from Bruce for a reason. While they both had the same goal of making Gotham a better place, Tim didn’t think _fear_ was the right way to go about it. Because that’s what Batman was to the criminals of Gotham, a symbol of fear. 

He also wanted to solve this case before Bruce did. The GCPD _needed_ a take down like this. It would improve public image at the very least. 

Pondering his options, Tim opened his email to look at the files Captain Pierce sent while he slept. First was the sketch of the skinny man Joe Campbell had developed with the help of a sketch artist. It was…striking. A long, lean face with a surprisingly square chin. Very narrow nose. Brownish-blonde hair, dark eyes. Joe hadn’t been too sure of the color in the lighting, but he apparently remembered the face very well. 

The notes had the man at about 6 feet and somewhere between the ages of 30 to 45. On the lower end of middle aged, which Tim found rather interesting. Whitaker’s murder could be described as a crime of passion, which usually was done by people in a younger age bracket. It wasn’t to say older people didn’t do it too, but it was worth thinking about. 

Tim saved the file and forwarded it to Jason. Perhaps he’d have some luck with it tonight before he instigated a bar brawl. 

Bracing himself, he opened the second file. Whitaker had been almost completely drained of blood, as Tim initially suspected. None of the major arteries aside from the carotid were opened, but all the little cuts started the process. The ME suspected the carotid was slashed last. The final nail in the coffin though was when the man’s genitalia were cut to pieces. He bled out after his testicles were removed. The ME did note those were located in the man’s mouth. 

Tim clenched his legs together a bit, wincing in misery. He dealt with some of the worst aspects of humanity on almost a daily basis, but this seemed like overkill. 

The ME went on to note that the cuts and slices were all done with a fine edged blade, very likely a scalpel considering the precision of the cuts. Additionally, whoever did this had knowledge of human anatomy and physiology. It would be too easy for an amateur to make the wrong cut, but this person knew exactly where to make the incision so as to make Whitaker bleed. 

Tim opened another program, taking notes and jotting down his thoughts. He was stalling. The last thing he wanted to do was look at the third file. 

He was just finishing when his phone rang. Reaching over to the coffee table, he smiled. It was Jason. 

“Hey,” he answered. 

“You’re awake. It’s almost 6, did you even sleep?” 

“I did. Almost four hours. Had a wild afternoon, so I’m surprised I slept at all. I have a pair of jeans for you to burn now too.” Tim cradled the phone against his shoulder and continued typing. 

“You always this rough with your clothes?” 

Tim chuckled. “Not usually. I learned a lot of tricks from Alfred for removing blood and other stains from clothing, but I think even he would consider these unsalvageable.” 

“Okay, that’s impressive. I’ve seen that man work miracles, in more ways than one. Do I need to be worried about any of that blood belonging to you?” Jason’s tone was light, but Tim could hear the underlying edge of concern. 

“Nope, it all belonged to a dying man. No need for you to go out and defend my honor.” 

Jason laughed. “You don’t strike me as the princess type, stalker. I’m pretty sure you can defend your own honor, even if I have to kidnap you from a hospital bed to do it.” 

“I like going for the kneecaps.” Tim smirked. 

“I’ll remember that, you sneaky little shit. Anyways, I got the picture. Did you get the ME’s report too?” 

“Yeah, I just finished Whitaker’s file and was taking notes. Scalpel work for the most part. I think we’re looking at someone with medical training at the very least. Possibly even a surgeon. I need to go back and look at the family history of the women he raped, see if there’s a connection like that somewhere.” 

“Just what this city fucking needs, another crazy who’s good at taking people apart and putting them back together again. Were you around for Hush?” 

Tim took a moment to pause in his typing and glared at the screen as the memory came back. “On the periphery. I heard about your part in it too.” It was dangerous, bringing up Jason’s past like this. One of the things that made their relationship work, so far at least, was the almost complete avoidance of any discussion concerning what Jason had done when he came back to Gotham. 

Yes, they’d talked a bit about what happened to him. Waking up after being dead and buried was something Tim couldn’t help but be curious about, but Jason purposefully didn’t say much more after he was dumped in the Lazarus Pit by Talia al’ Ghul. Tim let him get away with it, knowing this was the part of the story that could very well break their still new and shiny relationship. 

“In my defense, I was still pretty fresh out of the Pit.” Jason sounded very defensive. “I know you know what kind of crazy comes out of that thing.” 

“I know.” Tim made sure his voice was purposefully calm. “I’ve had a couple of run-ins with Ra’s and the League myself. Neither were very good experiences. Anyways, I’ve got some digging to do there, but I think I’m going to give it to Malloy to keep him out of my hair tomorrow night.” He purposefully moved the conversation back to the case. 

Jason let him. “What’s going on tomorrow night?” 

Tim explained about Ross Sinclair and his suspicions about the Germaine Club. “I’m going to have to bite the bullet and call Bruce. I _need_ to get in there. I’ll hack their computer later, but I’m willing to place money on Ross Sinclair being a member.” 

Jason was silent a moment. “Why don’t you try Dickie instead? Damian may be Bruce’s blood son, but in a place like that, Dick’s name will work almost as well B’s. And he’s legal.” 

Tim blinked in amazement. “Why the hell didn’t I think of that? Thanks, Jay.” 

A deep chuckle came across the line. “You’re too close to things, sometimes it helps to take a step back for perspective.” 

“That sounds like something Bruce would say,” Tim said wryly. 

“I will admit to being told that a time or two in past. Or six. Maybe it was a dozen, it was over 10 years ago and a lot of shit’s happened to me since then.” Jason kept his tone light, almost joking, so Tim knew he was trying to play it off. 

“Well, in any case, I’d much rather call Dick than Bruce, so thanks for the idea. I’m going to open this last file here, probably go vomit again, then get ready to go back to the station and meet Malloy.” He eyed his email, looking at that last file with a great deal of trepidation. 

“You saved the worst for last.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Yeah.” 

“I know you’ve seen some bad shit in your time, but is this the first baby?” It was a serious question and matched Jason’s tone. 

Sighing, Tim replied, “No, it’s not. But this is the first one I’ve ever dug out of a dumpster. It’s…hard. Not that any of them were easy, but…” He trailed off. 

It was Jason’s turn to sigh now. “Yeah, I know. Anything involving kids just sucks, but when they’re this young? Fuck, they never had a chance.” 

Tim shook his head. “I know. And on that bright note, I’m going to let you go so I can get this over and done with without looking like even more of a pussy in front of my big bad vigilante boyfriend.” 

“You’re not a pussy, Tim. I’ve never once thought you were.” Jason gave a wry laugh. “Any one who has the balls to stand his ground in front of me in full gear instead of pissing himself and running deserves special consideration.” 

“Thanks, Jay. I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

“Later, stalker.” 

Hanging up, Tim stared blankly at his laptop for a few moments. Jason may be playing on the side of the angels at the moment, but he still toed and occasionally crossed that line. It was the reason why he went to the man in the first place after Tyler Carter’s murder. He needed someone who was willing to cross the line, at least in special circumstances. 

Would he need Jason to do so again? And would he do it if Tim asked? The question he avoided asking himself is what would he do if Jason said no. Yes, the Red Hood was a killer, there was no doubt about that. But he targeted a very specific part of the criminal population and even then, it was only if these people were operating in the little part of Gotham he called home. 

Whitaker was on the edge of what Tim knew was the Red Hood’s type, a man who preyed on women. And now, a man who was a child killer, at least in some capacity. If it weren’t for the shear brutality of the murder, Tim would say Red Hood could be a viable candidate for the killer. Jason could torture someone, he’d heard stories and rumors about the Red Hood doing just that in his early years of operating, back when the Pit rage still seethed inside of him. 

But after Tim and Stephanie found Bruce, it was almost like a switch had been flipped in Jason’s brain. He settled down, became calmer, at least in comparison to his earlier behavior. He disappeared from Gotham for a while, only to resurface about six months later in Crime Alley and the Bowery to continue his one man mission to keep his streets safe. He was realistic in what was ‘safe’ too. This was when his current target profile became established. 

Anyone who dealt drugs to kids got a bullet through some body part as a warning, then to the head the next time he caught them. The dealers learned really quickly on that one. Rapists were lucky if they walked away with two or three new holes in various places, the severity of which seemed to depend on his mood. But the only ones he killed outright were the ones who went after children. 

If this case didn’t involve a dead baby, would Jason even be helping? He and Tim had been dating a few weeks now and this was the first case he showed this much interest in, though it could be related to how it was impacting Tim. He was being pulled through the ringer on this one already. 

It was with these thoughts chasing through his mind that Tim opened the last file.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this is starting to feel like one of those serial magazine or newspaper stories from way way back in the day. Stay tuned next for the ongoing adventures of Tim Drake and his trusty partner Gannon Malloy! LOL! :P
> 
> Seriously though, next week...Malloy meets the Red Hood. :D


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to guest beta GoAwayOlivia this week!
> 
> Now here's what a lot of you have been waiting for...Malloy meets the Red Hood!

Chapter Five – Night Two (Evening and Night) 

An hour later, Tim sat in his parked car at the back of the precinct staring at his phone. Dealing with Dick could be interesting at the best of times and it had been awhile since he last spoke with the older man. Tim was also positive he was going to ask about his birthday too. 

Shaking his head, he hit speed dial number 5. A couple of rings later and a bright and cheerful greeting echoed in his ear. “Timmy!” 

“Hey Dick.” 

“I was just thinking of you the other day. Did you know it’s your birthday soon?” 

In the background, Tim could hear Damian. “Of course Drake knows his birthday is coming up. His own calendar reminds him after he forgot one.” 

“Hush, Lil’ D. So what’s up, Tim?” Dick asked, finally letting Tim get a word in edgewise. 

Tim hid a sigh. Dick’s energy could be exhausting sometimes. He loved the older man dearly, but sometimes he drove him up the wall. “I actually need a favor. It’s for a case I’m working on.” 

“That sliced up guy and the dumpster baby? Bruce sent those my way to keep an eye on while he’s out of town.” 

“Bruce is out of town?” That was news to Tim. He felt elated and somewhat cheated at the same time. So much for the race to the finish line. 

“Yeah, he got pulled away on League business. He was going to look into that murder actually, then saw it was assigned to you and Gannon. Decided to back off and let you work your magic. He’s a big fan of your work, you know?” It sounded like Dick said that all in one breath. 

“I didn’t know, actually. We don’t talk much, you know that.” Especially after the Black Mask incident. Tim knew Bruce could carry guilt around forever and had heard from multiple people that he felt horrible for body slamming Tim against the side of warehouse a few times. 

“I know. You should fix that. We all know he’s not going to. So what’s the favor? I assume it’s related to your case?” 

“It is.” Tim quickly brought Dick into the loop with the events of the afternoon, knowing he’d at least already read Batman’s file about the initial deaths. “So I need to get into the Germaine Club and was wondering if you can still get in by dropping Bruce’s name.” 

“I can and I will, gladly. I’ll toss in a bonus too. I know the name Ross Sinclair.” Tim could just see the grin on the older man’s face. 

“Really? Do tell.” 

“He went to school with me. A couple years older, but he loved to pick on the circus brat. Not that he could ever catch me, but you get the idea.” 

“An entitled bully.” Tim grimaced. “I had to deal with my fair share of them when I went to boarding school. Those guys just grow up to be entitled rich bastards.” 

Dick laughed. “I think Jason would agree with you on that one. He had a rough time of it too. Not all of them turned out to be awesome like us.” 

“I bet he would.” Tim carefully didn’t let it go further than that. He and Jason both agreed that telling his family they were dating would not end well for any of _them_. “So when are you free to help me out? I don’t remember, is that place even open during the day?” 

“I don’t remember either, but I’m sure Alfred does. Let me do some digging tonight; see if I can find out when Ross usually makes an appearance. I know you’re busy tonight, so I’ll check in with you tomorrow morning. Sound good?” 

“It’s perfect. Thanks Dick. I really appreciate it.” 

“Of course! I keep telling you you’re family…(“No, he’s not” echoing through the line from Damian)…and this is what families do. I’m positive if Bruce were here, he’d be jumping at the chance to help.” 

Tim shook his head wryly. “Ever the optimist.” 

“Someone has to be in this family of knuckleheads. Now get to work before Alfred realizes I have you on the phone and he takes it from me.” 

Laughing, Tim said his good nights and hung up. Tomorrow was going to be interesting. He’d never worked with Dick outside of his Nightwing costume before. The man showed a happy and carefree side to both parts of his life, but Tim had seen the darker parts too, the ones Dick preferred to hide and pretend didn’t exist. 

The man was only human and had experienced so much in his life, most of which people couldn’t even dream of. From dating an alien princess to leading the Teen Titans, the Outsiders, the Titans, and even the Justice League on a few occasions, Dick Grayson led a life that was far from ordinary. But that’s what he liked to pretend he was. Just an ordinary guy who grew up in a circus. 

Getting out of his car, he locked it, noticing as he did that Malloy’s sports car was already here. 

Tim walked up the back steps of the precinct. The shadows were getting long as the sun moved closer and closer to the horizon. Summer always amused him. With longer days, one would think crime rates would drop as there were fewer shadows to hide in. But it was worse. It wasn’t until the winter that crime dropped off. Hot and humid in the summer and deadly cold in the winter. 

Gotham was a city of extremes. And Tim wouldn’t have it any other way.

*****  

“Well that was a bust,” Malloy commented as he and Tim exited Scratcher’s a couple hours later. They started walking down the street to where they’d parked Tim’s car. Malloy had been insistent Tim drive tonight so as to avoid any further defacing of his precious “baby”. 

“No shit.” Tim ran a hand through his messy hair. “I knew flashing badges would get us nowhere, but I expected flashing some cash would.” 

“I’m guessing your reputation worked against you here. These people know you’re a cop and not just a pretty face.” 

“Well, at least said reputation kept us from getting our asses handed to us. I did like your move with the pool cue.” 

Malloy laughed. “I had to do something to go along with those karate moves you broke out with. That was awesome the way you flipped up onto the pool table and kicked that guy in the face.” 

Tim shook his head ruefully. The move had been something Damian taught him and most certainly not something his sensei would approve of. “That was a bit improvised actually,” he hedged instead. 

“Either way, it saved the day. God, I hope we don’t run into more of the same at the Alley.” Malloy shook his head at the thought as they approached Tim’s car and got in. 

Tim started the car, but before he pulled it out of park, he took out his phone to check for damage. It was fine, but he also saw a message from Jason that was about an hour old. 

_Ready to rock n’ roll. Text me when you’re on your way._

He replied with a quick _OMW_ and put his phone away. Malloy watched him with a small smile. “Jay?” 

“Yeah. Just wishing he was here with us instead of watching Pixar,” he lied easily as he started driving. 

“He must not like cartoons at all then, because even I think those movies are pretty good.” 

Tim shrugged. “I think it’s just not his type of movie. Next time he and I watch something, I’m going to drag out some of my anime on him.” 

“Have I told you you’re a dork recently? Because you are, you know.” Malloy smirked, the streetlights making odd shadows across the man’s face. 

“I’ve been told that many times over the years and I wear the badge proudly. You can suck it for all I care.” 

“Nah, that’s Jay’s job now.” Tim could just see the man’s leer. 

“I should never have told you we decided to give things a try.” He shook his head, annoyed, but knowing Malloy was just teasing him because he could. 

Malloy shrugged. “Not like you had a choice. That was some hickey you were trying to hide the day after the car wash. I’m glad you did though. You know a hell of a lot more about me than I do about you. It’s nice when you let me in.” 

Tim sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ve always been a private person. It’s hard to open up.” 

“I get it. I really do. And I’ll try to cut back on the teasing when you do. I don’t want you to think everything you tell me becomes ammo for something later.” 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. “So…is he?” Malloy asked. 

Tim knew very well what Malloy was asking, but decided to make him work for it. “Is he what?” 

The blonde man groaned in frustration. “C’mon, Rookie. I’m _single_ right now and it _sucks_. Let me live vicariously through you.” 

Tim chuckled as he took note of the cross streets they were passing through. They’d just passed out of New Town and into Crime Alley. “There’s nothing to tell. He’s got a talented tongue, I’ll give him that, but we’ve only kissed so far.” 

“ _What?”_ Malloy blustered. “Fuck, Rookie, do I need to give you pointers or something?” 

Tim felt his neck start burning and hoped the blush he could feel rising wasn’t obvious in the faint light coming in from outside. “No, you don’t and don’t even think about it,” he said firmly. “I’ll be the first to admit it’s totally me, usually because I’m too fucking exhausted to do more. Besides, it’s only been a few weeks.” 

He could see his partner raising his hands in a defensive motion. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop. But seriously, let me know when things get good.” 

Tim made a point to brake hard as he pulled up to the curb about a block down from the Alley so that Malloy jerked forward hard in his seatbelt. “We’re here,” he announced, unbuckling quickly and getting out of the car. 

He looked around, taking in his surroundings. As usual, streetlights were few and far between in this part of town, creating little islands of flickering light where they were working. The streets were cracked and pitted, and the buildings that lined the streets made the Bowery apartment building he’d been in earlier that day look like premium housing in the Diamond District. Dark, dingy, and dangerous. 

On the other side of the car, Malloy had gotten out as well, thankfully keeping his mouth shut as he too took in the area. “Nice place,” he muttered, voice carrying just loud enough to Tim’s ears. 

“Yeah.” Somewhere in the block between here and the Alley, they’d be waylaid by the Red Hood if all went to plan. Tim checked his phone and didn’t see anything new from Jason. He sent a quick _We’re here_ to the man and tucked the phone into his pocket. 

“Let’s get this done with,” Malloy said, making sure his gun was secure in the shoulder holster he was sporting beneath the loose button down he was wearing over a black t-shirt. Tim had been surprised earlier when he saw his partner looking so casual. He didn’t think the man even owned a pair of jeans, let alone the worn ones he was sporting tonight. 

Tim did the same, but also reached into his other pocket to check the position of the knife he had strapped to his thigh. He’d never had to pull it in front of the older man, but after having been on the receiving end of random ninja attacks over the years, he always kept it close. He cursed Damian every damn time they happened. 

Locking the doors to the car, the detectives started down the sidewalk towards the Alley. Both men stayed silent and alert, senses combing the darkness as they walked through the most dangerous part of Gotham. Knowing there was an even more dangerous predator out there to keep the shadows at bay did nothing to relax Tim’s vigilance. Better safe than sorry he told himself. 

It still came as a surprise when a voice came out of the deep shadows of an alley they were passing in front of. “Well, well, two Gotham City detectives really stand out like a sore thumb ‘round here. Your self preservation instincts are for shit if ya think you can just walk into the Alley.” 

Tim and Malloy whirled towards the voice, both men going for their guns. 

Even with two guns pointed directly at him, the Red Hood rested casually against the alley wall. The lighting was poor, but Tim could still make out the faint red gleam of his helmet. He didn’t relax his stance, keeping his gun out and aimed at Hood. Jason was sure to give him shit about it later, but appearances were appearances. 

“The hell…” Malloy started. From what Tim could see of his face, he looked in shock. “Red Hood. You’ve got some balls if you think you can just walk up to two cops to say hey.” 

Tim could hear the smirk in Jason’s voice. “I didn’t. And it’s not you I’m here for. It’s your little partner.”

Making a point to act startled, Tim asked, “Me? What the hell did I do to piss you off?” He’d tell off Jason for calling him short later.

“You didn’t. Word on the street is that Detective Drake is askin’ around for any information on Roger Whitaker and what he’s had his hands in recently.” 

Malloy growled. “And this involves you how? The man was murdered, finding the perp who did it is our job.” 

“It involves me since I don’t like rapists who get away with it. And baby killers. So I did some askin’ around of my own.” 

Tim gave Malloy a side-eye. A lot of this little act hinged on his partner’s reactions. As far as Tim knew, he’d never encountered Red Hood before. All GCPD cops knew about Gotham’s vigilantes, from Batman on down. Red Hood was always a bit of an enigma though. He killed people, but it was hard for any officer or detective to feel bad for those he did as he had a tendency to go after the worst of the worst. 

Deciding to step in, Tim asked, “Why? We’ll take any information we can get, but you’re not exactly known for assisting with law enforcement. We’d be completely within our rights to try and arrest you for murder.” Malloy nodded in agreement. 

Hood chuckled darkly. “And we all know just how well _that_ would go down. You can certainly try, Detective Drake.” He stepped away from the wall and spread his arms wide. “I’ll even give ya a free hit, but you can kiss my information goodbye if ya take it.” 

Malloy sent a querying look at Tim. He knew as well as Tim did Hood wore bulletproof clothing, so a gunshot wasn’t going to do any good, not with the caliber they were both sporting. A .45 would hurt, but not pierce the big man. The only chance would be for Malloy to shoot and Tim to try and get a shot in of his own using his martial arts skills. Tim shook his head slightly. 

He knew he didn’t stand a chance in hell against Jason, even if Malloy did wound him. And the purpose of this little charade wasn’t to shoot up his boyfriend. 

Tim lowered his gun and holstered it. At his partner’s actions, Malloy lowered his, but didn’t put it away. “My partner and I are outgunned and we’re not stupid enough to try and take you on hand-to-hand.” 

Hood lowered his arms. “Smart move, Drake. I’ve heard a lot of words to describe ya and dumb ain’t one of them.” Tim idly noticed Jason’s Gotham street accent was very strong tonight. 

He took a slow step forward, moving into the mouth of the alley, just outside of Hood’s reach. “What have you learned?” 

The larger man resumed his relaxed position against the grimy wall, crossing his arms again. “That Whitaker deserves every damn thing that happened to him. In addition to the six assaults that were actually reported, I found another five that weren’t. News of his death are makin’ the ladies very happy. One less predator out there for them to worry ‘bout.” 

Looked like the Red Hood had been busy tonight if he’d found out that much already. Despite the casual stance, Tim noticed most of Jason’s weight was on his left leg. He must have done something to the right one. Tim shook his head. “Fuck. I knew I was right about this being a revenge killing. Care to give me any names?” 

Behind him, Malloy murmured in agreement. 

Red Hood made a show of slowly digging into a pocket and pulling out a piece of crumbled paper. “Names, ages, and current street corners.” He reached out to hand it to Tim, who carefully stepped forward again to take it, then back out of reach. It was too dark to read it, but he knew the details would be there. 

“Anything else on Whitaker?” Malloy asked. 

“The ass-wipe’s kept a low profile since leavin’ the joint. The Alley was a meeting place for him though. Somethin’ sketchy involvin’ some well dressed prick from uptown. The prick would waltz in like he owns the place, sit with Whitaker for a bit, then dance back out. Ol’ Roger would leave not long after.” 

Tim thought quickly. “Anyone say anything about what that business was about? How about a description of the guy he met with?” 

Hood shook his head. “Not a word on what the meetings were about. The uptown shit’s description is on the paper I gave you.” 

“Thanks for the assist, Hood, but you know we have to go and verify the information you gave us, right?” Malloy commented dryly. 

Another low chuckle came from the Red Hood. “Have fun with that, blondie. I left the good citizens of the Alley a bit worse for the wear tonight. I’m sure they’ll just _love_ to see two detectives come in askin’ the same questions I did.” 

Tim frowned. “How did you know we were coming here?” 

“Whitaker only frequented two bars in this city. Scratchers over in the Bowery and the Alley. I know how to ask questions too. And I get answers.” 

Inwardly, Tim smirked. Jason sure knew how to put on the act. He wondered just how much of the Red Hood was simply bluff and bravado that was reinforced with a few firm fists every now again. Still, the thought that Jason had gotten into a fight tonight concerned him. He still complained about his leg hurting or feeling weak at random times. 

“Answers that require medical attention? Do we need to call a bus?” he asked dryly. 

“Nah, nothin’ too serious. ‘Sides, like 911 would be in a rush to send medics over here. Do I need to go ta Scratchers and deliver the beat down for ya too?” Tim could hear the grin in Jason’s voice. 

“Pass,” said Malloy. “We’ll check out what you gave us and if it’s legit, then thank you. Gotta ask though, what’s your angle here, Hood? Whitaker is dead, so there’s nothing here for you to shoot.” 

Tim wanted to smack his partner. Words like that could very easily provoke the Red Hood in normal circumstances. 

Hood stood up straight and uncrossed his arms, facing Malloy directly and standing almost even with Tim. “The way I see it, you’re not in a position to ask questions, detective. Cuz no one’s goin’ ta answer _you._ ” 

With that, the Red Hood turned and disappeared into the alley. Tim heard the faint _snick_ of a grapple gun going off and knew he had taken to the roofs. 

He turned to his partner and smacked him on the back of the head. “What the _fuck_ was that? Did you not see how close he was to me? If Hood decided to take a swing, it would have been at me instead of you.” Tim had studied some acting under Alfred, he knew how to make anger sound convincing. 

Malloy rubbed the back of his head. “Shit. I’m sorry, Tim,” he said, sounding contrite. “He just threw me for a loop is all. From everything I’ve heard about Red Hood, this is out of character for him.” 

Tim shook his head. “This is not my first encounter with vigilantes in this town. Kinda have to learn to read between the lines with them.” He walked out of the alley and started back to his car. Malloy followed, holstering his gun. 

“What do you mean? I’ve dealt with Nightwing before, back in the ‘Haven before it turned into a toxic wasteland. He was always pretty straightforward.” 

Shaking his head again, Tim replied, “You still don’t get it. Red Hood hasn’t been seen since Black Mask died. I know, I’ve been checking in periodically with my irregulars about it. As far as I can tell, this is the first time he’s been seen in _months_.” 

He unlocked his car and got in, waiting for his partner to get in before starting it and continuing. “And if the first thing he does is come running to the cops with information about a murder that occurred on his watch, then either he’s pissed off at Batman for something or this is bigger than we thought and Hood thinks it can’t be solved by shooting someone in the face.” 

Tim was rather proud of himself for this little rant. It was all relatively true too, as Jason was almost always pissed at Bruce for _something._

“You know a lot about Red Hood. How come you’ve never said anything before?” Malloy asked, sounding a bit angry. 

“I was an officer on the streets of New Town for _five_ _years_. You know my knack for getting people to talk to me. Eventually, the masked crowd started to as well. Mostly Batgirl and sometimes Nightwing and Robin. I’ve met Red Hood a couple times and learned very quickly he’s got a hair trigger temper and a trigger finger to match. He’s not just some dumb thug. He’s smart.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Tim could see Malloy shaking his head. “You ever meet Batman?” he asked. There was a hint of wonder in his voice, like a child asking a parent if they’d ever met Santa. 

“Yes,” he replied. “He’s the one who set me on the path I’m on today.” It wasn’t a lie. 

“I sense a story there.” 

“Yes, but not right now. It’s…a little too personal.” Memories of seeing his dad in a coma in the hospital and his mom’s funeral came to mind. 

“Okay.” Malloy knew Tim well enough at this point to know when not to push. “So what do we tell Pierce? I’m going to go out on the limb here and say that if we even so much as hint that we ran into Red Hood tonight, these cases are going down to Central. Black Mask was one thing, but this? It’s _ours_.” 

Tim nodded as he made a turn. “Agreed. Red Hood is an informant, for whatever reason that likely only makes sense to him. This doesn’t involve the masks and the only major rogue that has an MO even remotely like this is locked up in Arkham.” 

“Zsasz?” 

“Zsasz,” Tim confirmed. “How about we keep it simple and just say one of my irregulars came through in a big way?” 

“Sounds good to me.”

*****  

A couple hours later, Tim walked into his apartment. The kitchen light was on like he’d left it earlier, but he could hear the low drone of the TV. Jason was sprawled out on his sofa, but he sat up when he saw Tim coming in. 

“Hey,” he said with a smirk. “So how’d our little performance go with Malloy?” 

Tim dropped his keys on the table by the door and toed off his sneakers. He crossed the living room in a few quick strides to straddle Jason’s thighs, reaching for his head to pull him into a heated kiss. Jason moaned and parted his lips, letting Tim’s questing tongue enter his mouth. Tim felt Jason’s hands settle at his waist to pull him in closer against the larger man’s body. 

Pulling back slightly to catch his breath, Tim smiled and rested his forehead against Jason’s. 

“Wow,” said Jason, sounding out of breath. “I think I need to be here more often when you get home from work. By the way, is that your gun or are you just that happy to see me?” He smirked. 

Tim laughed and settled back onto Jason’s thighs. “Both,” he replied as Jason’s hands trailed down his waist, ghosted over his rear and hips, to settle on the outside of Tim’s thighs. 

“Hmmm, and here’s that knife no one’s supposed to know about.” Jason’s hand danced up and down the length of the knife Tim wore strapped to his leg under his jeans, accessible through a hole in his pocket. “Gotta admit, knowing you’re armed is a turn on.” 

Leaning in for another searing kiss, Tim felt himself truly relax for the first time today. Jason was a warm, solid, and tangible presence in his life. Feeling his arms around him made him feel safe and wanted, more so than he’d ever felt in previous relationships. Releasing Jason’s lips, he rested his head against Jason’s broad shoulder. “No guns in bed,” Tim said. “Unless they’re under the pillow or mattress.” 

He felt Jason chuckle in response. “Deal. I’m the same way about knives.” 

Tim smiled into Jason’s neck, lips ghosting against his skin in a light caress. “Now that that’s established, tell me what really happened at the Alley tonight. Are you okay?” 

“Christ, does that brain of yours have an off switch? That’s a total 180 from what we were just talking about.” Jason wrapped his arms around Tim and gave him a little shake. “Bedroom kinks to bar brawls. Although, a good fight does get the blood pumping.” Tim could feel Jason shift his hips upwards a bit in a light thrust for emphasis. A wave of heat washed over Tim, as well as some uncertainty. 

Tim had never been in a physical relationship with another man before. He knew the mechanics and experimented on himself to get an idea of what it felt like. But all of his physical relationships were with women. Not that there were many, but the thrill and the feelings he felt for Jason already were so much stronger than he’d ever felt for anyone else, including Stephanie. 

“Stalker?” Tim tore himself from his thoughts as Jason cradled the side of his face in one of his big hands. “You were a million miles away for a moment there. You okay?” He sounded concerned. 

Tim quickly nodded. “I am. Its just…” he trailed off. 

Jason’s lips quirked in that crooked little smile Tim loved. “I believe we established early on rules about personal boundaries. I’m a flirt and a tease, you know that. But if you’re not ready for something, I’m not going to push.” 

Tim turned his head a bit to place a kiss into Jason’s palm. “I know. And I appreciate it. It’s probably pretty obvious at this point, but…I may be bi, but I’ve only been with women before. Never really met a guy I liked enough to want to take to bed.” He could feel the blush rising up his neck. 

Jason nodded slowly, his blue-green eyes serious. “I get it. Just so we’re clear though, is that where you want to end up with me? Eventually at least?” 

Leaning in again, Tim wrapped his arms around Jason’s neck and kissed him with all the passion and skill he knew. His lips danced across Jason’s, teeth nipping slightly, prompting the older man to open up so Tim could tease with his tongue. Jason wrapped his arms tightly around the smaller man, pulling him close again so their hips met, denim against denim. Tim moaned when Jason thrust again. He could feel the man’s hardening cock against his own. 

Tim shifted, angling his hips to grind against Jason, causing him to release a groan of his own. He pulled back from the kiss, laying light butterfly kisses on the man’s cheeks and nose. “Very much so,” he whispered. 

Jason’s breath came in short pants. “Fuck, stalker. You’re makin’ me feel like I’m still in short-pants and rubbing one out on patrol before B finds out.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Tim said. 

“You should. And you should totally let me get you off sometime soon. Maybe not tonight, but soon. It’ll break the ice.” Jason chuckled as he leaned his head back against the sofa, revealing the strong line of his neck for Tim. 

The thought of Jason’s hand or mouth on his cock sent a shiver through Tim. He wanted it. He wanted Jason. _Always have_. And by some unexplainable luck, here he was, sitting on Tim’s sofa with his arms around Tim’s waist looking at him like there was no one else. 

“I’d like that,” Tim replied, sliding off Jason’s lap to curl into open space next to him on the sofa. He rested his head on Jason’s shoulder, the larger man draping one arm across the back of the sofa and the other around Tim. “So, how was your brawl earlier? And how did you find out those additional victim names so quickly?” 

Tim felt Jason’s laughter rumble through him. “You are so goddamned hilarious, stalker.” He shifted, lifting his right leg and resting his foot on the coffee table in front of the sofa, knee bent slightly. 

“Leg bothering you?”

“A bit.” Jason rubbed his thigh. “Luckily, I didn’t have to kick anyone too hard.” 

“Too hard? So you did have to kick someone.” 

“Can’t have a good brawl without kicking some jackass in the balls, Detective.” Jason smirked. 

Tim elbowed the bigger man in the ribs, just hard enough to feel him try and shift away. “Full story, Hood,” he ordered. 

“Those are some damn pointy elbows you got there, stalker.” 

“The next one goes in your groin, so start talking.” The words lacked bite and they both knew it. 

“Fine, fine. To answer the second question first, I’ll just say is that the ladies of the night love me. I keep an eye on things for them when I’m not laid up with a broken fucking leg and they give me all the dirt. Good source of information, those gals.” The smirk on Jason’s face could be described as a mixture of sleazy and proud. 

“I agree,” Tim said dryly. “They like me too.” 

Jason laughed. “That’s what I heard! So about my leg, I waltz into the Alley in full gear and about half the shitheads there start running for the backdoor. I’m not up for a chase, so I wait for the pansies to clear out and then tell the rest I’m looking for anyone who knew Whitaker and that I’m willing to bust balls to get the information or pay for a round or two for whoever decides to talk without needing a black-eye to get them started.” 

Tim snorted. “Smart move. Did that raise a few eyebrows?” 

The big man shrugged. “Not really. I’m known to do both. If I’m in just the mask, I’ll drink with them.” 

“Really?” There was surprise in Tim’s voice at that bit of information. He shifted a bit to try and look at Jason. He still had his head resting on the back of the sofa, eyes closed. 

“Really. This is my territory, my neighborhood, my streets. It’s well known who my usual targets are and those were the ones who ran when they saw me. The rest, they may be shit, but it’s not the kind of shit I’m going to rain holy hell on.” 

“Huh,” Tim said, thinking quickly. The information was intriguing and gave him a whole new perspective on the Red Hood. It also confirmed some of his earlier suspicions. 

“Anyways,” Jason continued. “A few of the guys start telling me about Whitaker’s meeting with the spiffy prick from uptown. General description of the guy, though someone did tell me what kind of car he drove too. I’d just placed money down to buy a few rounds when some of the shitheads from earlier came back with some friends.” 

“So that’s how the fight started.” 

“Yep. First night back on the streets and all, makes sense someone started thinking I’d bitten the bullet with ol’ Blackie. Gonna have to re-establish who’s in charge here, but that’s not something I’m too worried about. Just knowing I’m back will scare about half of them shitless.” Jason’s voice was nonchalant, like this was everyday work for him. 

Tim was fascinated. This was the first time Jason ever really opened up about his work as the Red Hood. It wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting. He knew Jason didn’t go around killing everyone who pissed him off, otherwise the police would have to go after him harder than they were. Jason, as the Red Hood, really knew the people he protected. It made Tim wonder what Jason did in Crime Alley outside of the hood. 

“Hmm…Sounds like you had a productive night then. I noticed the vehicle description on the paper earlier and wondered about it.” 

Jason nodded, finally looking down at Tim. “It was a good night. Got even better when you showed up. I loved watching you rip into Malloy. Fuckin’ hilarious.” He grinned. 

“You saw that, did you? Had to keep up the show.” Tim chuckled. 

“Alfie would be so proud.” Jason let Tim go and stretched. “Now that story time is done, we goin’ to bed or what? I’m tired and I know you’ve got to be too.” 

Tim leaned in to give Jason a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m exhausted. I’ll go clean up. Grab me a water from the fridge?” He reluctantly pulled himself away from Jason to stand. 

“Sure.” 

As Tim walked into his bathroom, he shook his head and marveled yet again at the fact that he was sharing a bed with Jason Todd.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week will find Tim having to open up a bit about parts of his private life that he'd really rather not reveal. But for the sake of the case, he will. Until next time! :)


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six – Day Two (Morning) 

Tim sat at his kitchen table working on his second cup of coffee when his cell phone rang. The obnoxious tone was a pop song he’d heard once and instantly thought of Dick. Personalized ring tones did come in handy. 

“Fuck, that has to be Dick,” Jason said from the stove where he was making breakfast. “Only he would have a song that annoying and cheerful.”

Tim nodded and answered. “Morning, Dick.” 

“Morning Timmy! You’re up early!” 

“Yep. Got some good sleep too. You got something for me?” Good sleep or not, he was barely into his second cup of coffee. Rudeness could be excused at this time of day. 

“Yeah, sleep. I’ll get some soon. Haven’t been to bed yet. Anyways,” Dick took a pause to breathe. The man was always oddly hyper when sleep deprived, even more so than normal. “I was right. Ross Sinclair is a member of the Club de St. Germaine. It’s just as posh and pretentious as I remember it. Alfred says a very nice suit will get by if you don’t have a tux.” 

Tim shook his head even though he knew Dick couldn’t see the movement. “Nope, haven’t had a tux in years, but I did buy a new suit a couple years back. It’s nice enough to pass muster. Alfred would kill me if I so much as _thought_ about renting a tux.” 

In the background, Jason snickered. Tim shot him a dirty look and made a hushing gesture with his hand. 

Dick didn’t appear to hear as he laughed. “No kidding! Man, I wish that were the case for me. I just got fitted for a new one last month. _Sucks_.” He paused for a breath and continued. “So I was thinking you, me, and Stephanie will go check things out tonight. Sinclair considers himself a ladies man and Steph’s willing to play along if it’ll help out your case.” 

Tim’s eyes widened in surprise. “Yes! She’s a fucking angel and I will totally tell her myself later.” 

“Good! Come over about six. Alfred will want to look at your suit and probably feed you too. We’ll head out about eight.” 

“Sounds good. Thanks again Dick, I really appreciate your help.” Jason quietly slid a plate of food in front of Tim. His mouth started watering. 

“See you later, Timmy!” 

Hanging up, Tim stared at the plate in front of him, then over at Jason who was sitting across from him with his own plate. 

“What?” Jason asked, taking a bite. 

Tim shook his head. “It’s just…it smells amazing. I can make an omelet, but it’s not anything fancy like this.”

Jason blushed a bit. Tim watched as his ears turned red at the praise. “Alfred’s a good teacher.” He shrugged. 

Tucking into his meal, Tim didn’t disagree. 

“I take it Steph is helping out tonight?” Jason asked after taking a sip from his tea. Tim had started stocking up when he found out he preferred it to coffee. 

Tim nodded as he swallowed. “Her and Dick. I got to be at the Manor by six with my best suit. Hopefully it’ll pass muster with Alfred.”

Jason chuckled. “If it doesn’t, I’m sure he’ll pull one out of nowhere in your exact measurements. He’s scary good like that." 

Sipping his coffee, Tim mumbled an agreement. “What are your plans today?” 

Finished with his food, Jason cradled his coffee mug in his large hands. “Got a PT session with Dana in a few hours. I’ll suck it up like a man, then cry like a baby when I get home.” 

Tim snorted, trying to muffle his laughter. “Just be sure to tell her you may have over done it last night. She’ll take it a _tad_ bit easier on you if you’re honest with her.” 

Jason shook his head in amusement, laughter dancing in his blue eyes. “She’s a dragon and I love her for it. I’m doing everything she says, swear to God.” 

“If you’re going to be crying in pain later, you can crash here if you want. I’ll be back this afternoon before heading over to the Manor. Perhaps we can get an early dinner?” Tim let a hopeful note enter his voice. They may only have been dating a few weeks, but they’ve never once gone out to dinner. Just hurried moments and take-out meals snatched here and there when Tim would fall into his apartment after a long night. 

Jason smiled as he reached across the table to take Tim’s hand. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll make dinner. How’s that sound?” 

Tim squeezed Jason’s hand. “It sounds amazing.”

*****  

An hour later, Tim and Malloy sat in Captain Pierce’s office going over what they’d learned the night before. 

“So that’s where we are right now,” Malloy finished. He kept to their story about one of Tim’s irregulars coming through with the information rather than the truth with the Red Hood. 

“All right.” Pierce replied, leaning back in his chair, but still directing his full attention on the two detectives in front of him. “I’ve got a rush in with the ME to run DNA analysis on the baby and Mitchell. If we’ve got a match, there’s not much we can do since they’re both dead, but at least we can call the kid Baby Mitchell rather than Baby Doe. Mendoza called before you two got in. No luck on finding Mitchell’s girlfriend yet, but they’re still looking. Drake, what have you found about Germaine Ross and Sinclair?” 

Tim set his tablet on the desk, angling it up so that his notes were visible to both men. “Germaine’s actually the name of a very exclusive club up in Bristol. The name we’re looking for is Ross Sinclair.” 

“Geez, Rookie, when did you figure that out?” Surprise was evident across Malloy’s face.

“Last night before our epic fail at Scratchers.” 

Malloy opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. The look he gave Tim made it pretty plain he was mad that Tim hadn’t said anything the night before when he’d had plenty of opportunity to do so.

Pierce took in Malloy’s reaction. “And you didn’t say anything to your partner because?” he asked sharply. 

Tim ran a hand through his hair, allowing himself the nervous gesture. “Because I was wracking my brain trying to figure out how two GCPD detectives can get into that club and hope for a snowball’s chance in hell to actually get Sinclair to talk to us. A warrant would get us in, but no one’s going to talk. Not in a place like that.” 

Malloy narrowed his eyes. “It sounds like you’ve been there before.” 

Pierce nodded in agreement. 

Tim looked at the two men, shrewd assessment plain in his gaze as he swept it back and forth between the two men. He didn’t like going into his history with people. It was like he said to Malloy last night, it was hard for him to open up. But in this case, if Tim didn’t open his mouth, then he was going to lose some more major trust points with his partner and superior officer. He liked Malloy and Captain Pierce, he really did, but there were just some parts of his history that he didn’t like airing and his parentage was one of them. 

“This goes no further than this room,” he started, looking seriously at both men. “I get enough shit from the peanut gallery out there, I don’t need more of it.” He gestured to the bullpen behind him. 

Both men nodded, but Malloy started drumming his fingers against his thigh in what Tim knew was one of his get on with it tells. 

“I have been to the Club de St. Germaine several times as a kid. Gotham high society likes to show off and having a gala event hosted there was as close as most could get to even comparing to those thrown by the Waynes, Davenports, or Kanes.” 

The confusion on Malloy’s face was readily apparent as that. He hailed originally from Bludhaven, not Gotham, so Tim’s last name wouldn’t ring a bell. “How on earth were you at events like that?” 

But Pierce’s gaze wasn’t. He’d put together the pieces. “You’re that Drake, aren’t you?” he asked, leaning forward on his desk, elbows up and his fingers steepled together. 

Tim arched an eyebrow and ignored his partner. “If by “that Drake” you’re referring to the son of Jack and Janet Drake, formerly of Drake Industries, then you’d be correct.” 

Pierce let out a low whistle. “My son used to work for Drake Industries before WayneTech bought it up during bankruptcy. I remember him telling me that something happened to the CEO and his wife. A kidnapping and ransom was it?” 

Tim nodded stiffly. “I was 13 at the time. My parents traveled a lot for work and during one of their stops, they were kidnapped and held for a massive ransom. To make a long story short, Mom was killed and Dad was seriously injured. He was in a coma for over a year. DI fell apart not long after he woke up.” 

Malloy’s eyes looked like saucers, they were opened so wide. “My god, Tim. I had no idea…” 

Tim shot a sharp look at his partner. “Not many people do. I don’t need the poor little former rich boy looks or comments. And I don’t want people thinking I got to where I am with playing the sympathy card. I’m still me.” 

“Neither of us ever thought otherwise,” said Pierce. “I assume you have a plan to get in there without a warrant?” Malloy still looked a bit shell-shocked. 

“Yes,” Tim said. “I made a call last night to my former guardian. His son actually, he’s out of town at the moment. He did some checking for me and got back to me this morning and said he can get me in. This is why I waited until now to say anything. We’ve got a tentative plan in place. I’ll head over this evening to hash out all the details and we’ll head out.” 

“Just you?” asked Malloy. “We’re a team here, you know." 

Tim leveled an even gaze at his partner. “No offense, but for all your charm, you’d still stand out like a sore thumb in a place like this. I was _raised_ in places like the Germaine Club, though I will gladly admit I wish I never had to step foot in that place again.” He paused, knowing he needed to change tactics to try and smooth over Malloy’s ruffled feathers. “I thought you might have more luck running down the list of new victims and starting the background checks to see what kind of medical professionals are in their families.” 

Malloy scowled. “Like you haven’t already started doing that.” 

“No, I haven’t. If I had, I wouldn’t be asking you to do it.” 

“Okay, knock it off, you two.” Pierce interrupted. “Malloy, Drake’s got a good point. These high society nobs, there’s a certain way to handle them and if Drake knows how, then this has to be him. However,” the captain turned his attention from Malloy to Tim. “I don’t like you going in there with just some rich man’s son. If Sinclair is dangerous, then you should have backup.” 

Tim sighed inwardly. He didn’t want to play this final card, but Pierce was forcing his hand. “If it helps, my former guardian’s son is a former policeman from Bludhaven.” 

Malloy’s eyes widened again as Pierce’s narrowed. “Who is your former guardian, Drake?” 

_Dammit._ “Bruce Wayne. His eldest son, Dick Grayson, is going with me tonight.” 

Tim may have been mad about having to reveal his hand, but he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t enjoy the reaction out of his partner. Malloy was so startled he fell out of his chair.

*****  

Tim waited. He knew it would only be a matter of time before his partner exploded. Luckily, he kept his mouth shut until they exited the precinct and were sitting in Tim’s air-conditioned car for privacy. It was a hot and muggy day, so Tim was glad for the cool air blowing over him. 

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Malloy started bellowing. “You must have been laughing it up the entire fucking time you’ve known me.” He was so visibly upset he was shaking. 

“No, I haven’t,” Tim replied calmly. “Dick asked me not to say anything. Said he never advertised who he really was in Bludhaven, that he went there to escape Gotham and being Bruce Wayne’s son.” It wasn’t entirely untrue. When Tim told Dick who his partner was upon getting his detective’s shield, Dick chuckled and made a comment about it being a small world. He looked wistful for a moment before covering it with his normal easy-going façade. 

Malloy sucked in a deep breath, let it out, then took another deep breath. “Christ, Tim. You sure know how to steal the wind from a man’s sails, you know? I want to be pissed at you, but I can’t. I’m the one who’s been asking for more information about you and your life and when you do open up, I’m so shocked I make an ass out of myself in front of our captain.” 

“I’m sorry, but it’s not like I could bring this up in casual conversation. I don’t like advertising who I know. At the very least, it keeps people from asking me to ask for dumb loans on their behalf.” Tim made a point to sound disgusted. 

It worked as his partner started snorting, trying and failing miserably to hide his laughter. “Okay, Rookie. You win. I am going to remember this and be very careful for what I ask for in the future. God, former ward of Bruce fucking Wayne…” he trailed off in amazement. 

Sensing it was safe finally, Tim replied, “It wasn’t as exciting as you probably think it was. I’d just lost my mom and at the time, it was really dicey on whether Dad was going to make it. Bruce, he… for all the media makes him out to be a lazy, rich playboy, he gets it. He knows what it’s like to lose your parents at a young age. He’d also just lost his second adopted son in an accident several months before. We helped each other.” 

That was a lie, but his partner didn’t need to know it. Bruce was so busy trying to destroy himself after his fight with Bane, he didn’t even know Tim existed. He lost himself to the darkness while Jean-Paul Valley took over as Batman. Tim took it upon himself to find Dick and bring him back to Gotham to try and bring the new Batman under control. When Bruce finally came back to Gotham, his back fully healed, but needing to take time to train and rediscover himself, the prodigal son stepped into the role as he should have in the first place. 

And while Tim may not have been at his side, he was manning the comms and tracking down information for the temporary Batman. He loved it, but he’d come to an important realization during this time. Gotham needed Batman, but Batman needed a Robin. And Dick couldn’t go back to that role. He was Nightwing now. He’d outgrown Robin, just like Jason eventually would have if he lived. And if Bruce didn’t want him, then he needed to find someone else. 

Enter Spoiler. 

Stephanie Brown was a bright light in Bruce’s darkness. She was everything a Robin should be. Tim loved her for it, in more ways than one. She was his first everything and would always hold a very special place in his heart. 

Tim shook himself out of his thoughts as Malloy spoke. “Yeah, I get why you wouldn’t want to share something like this with just anyone. When you see Dick tonight, tell him I said hello and that I hope he’s doing well. He was a damn fine cop and I never understood why he turned in his badge when he did.” 

“I will. So about tonight, I have an idea…” he trailed off, uncertain as to how his partner would respond. “I’m going out with your old partner to track down the big bad, so how about mine escorts you around the streets?” 

“Say what?” asked Malloy in response. “You volunteering Jay to go out with me tonight?” 

Tim shrugged. “It’s just a thought. You said yourself yesterday he might be able to open some doors. Perhaps he’ll be able to help get some mouths to open. He’s _very_ charming when he wants to be.” It was a calculated risk to have his partner take Jason along tonight. He was confident Jason wouldn’t blow his own cover and Malloy needed someone to go with him who knew the ins and outs of Gotham’s nightlife as well as Tim did. 

Malloy looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “Ask him.” 

“Okay.” Tim paused, then continued. “We good?” 

“Yeah, we’re good, Rookie. We’re good.”

*****  

Tim and Malloy spent the rest of the morning and afternoon running the names Red Hood provided in the system to compile a list of current addresses. They also pulled everything they could find on Ross Sinclair. 

Both lists were short, but it was enough to get Malloy started. 

When Tim called Jason at lunch to ask about touring the streets with Malloy that night, the older man almost laughed himself sick before agreeing. Tim had to hold his phone away from his ear, it was so loud. 

“Nice to see he’s taking this seriously,” Malloy commented dryly, taking a bite from his fry. 

Tim shot him a look. “There’s an inside joke here. And no, I’m not telling you what it is.” 

Malloy finished his fry. “This is me not asking questions. I want to, but I’m behaving myself after this morning.” 

“No wonder you and Dick got along so well. You’re both as curious as cats.” 

“We’re going to be doing a lot of walking tonight, Jay’s leg going to be up for it?” 

“Should be. He just finished PT a bit ago and said he was going to rest up.” Tim took a sip from his water. He’d promised Jason he would have at least one glass over lunch instead of more caffeine. For some reason, the man was bound and determined to break Tim of his caffeine addiction. Tim was willing to let him try. 

“Make sure he brings his cane. If it’s the collapsible kind, it can almost double as a nightstick in the right hands.” Malloy’s voice was steady, but Tim shot him a sharp look as he took a bite from his sandwich. It’s not the first time his partner has made a passive comment about Jason’s background. Last night, the Red Hood had taken pains to make sure nothing connected him to the Jason Todd Tim was dating. He couldn’t back Jason out of their planned rendezvous tonight now, but Tim decided to keep a more wary eye on Jason and Malloy’s interactions in the future. 

The last thing he needed was his partner connecting the dots to a pattern he shouldn’t have seen in the first place.

*****  

Tim left work just before 4 in the afternoon to head home. He had his own preparations to make before heading up to Wayne Manor, but he was also looking forward to the meal Jason was making for him. There was something much more intimate in his mind about a homemade dinner than breakfast. He’d worn a sappy smile earlier this morning when he got up to find a pot of coffee already made and Jason rummaging through his fridge to find breakfast ingredients, but that was nothing compared to the one he’s trying to suppress as he entered his apartment building. 

Jason. The thought sent a warm rush through Tim like it always did now. For some odd reason, the former Robin was attracted to _him._ Tim Drake, the Robin that never was. Tim idly wondered what his life would have been like if he had been good enough for Bruce. Would he and Jason even be together? 

Bruce. At the thought, Tim’s good mood turned sour. For all that he liked to think it was Bruce’s darkness and willingness to instill fear into the criminals of Gotham, Tim knew it was the rejection that made him become a cop. He’d been rejected by the Batman as not being good enough to help protect this city. So Tim turned around and started doing it the only way he knew how, by becoming a police officer and using the bits and pieces he picked up from Bruce and Dick, then later Stephanie and Damian, to become the best he could be. 

And he was succeeding, if Dick’s comment last night was any indication. Bruce was staying out of _his_ cases. Letting him do his _own_ work. 

Shaking his head, Tim unlocked the door to his apartment. A wave of garlic and butter and something savory wafted through the air. His mouth started watering. He took off his shoes and went immediately to the kitchen. 

Jason was at the counter, brushing a crusty baguette with garlic butter and something herbal. “Oh my god, it smells amazing in here,” Tim almost gushed. 

“It better be, I’ve been here a good hour already getting shit done.” He cut the heel of the bread and handed Tim a slice. “I made lasagna. It’s got about 15 minutes to go, so if you want to get cleaned up, you’ve got some time.” 

Tim closed his eyes at the texture of the bread. Crusty exterior and so soft and chewy on the inside. “If I could find some way to hire you and cook for me full time, I would totally do it.” 

Jason laughed, crossing his arms and leaning on the counter. Tim noticed all his weight was on his left leg. “You can’t afford me, Drake,” he said with a smirk. 

Tim groaned as he took another bite. “I know. How about once a week instead?” 

“I think we can work something out.” 

“How’s your leg?” Tim asked around a mouthful of garlicky bread. 

“Sore, but I’ll be fine. All the better to keep your partner from thinking I’m more than I am.” Jason and Tim had a rather active text message chain that afternoon after lunch. One that made Tim rather glad he’d accepted Barbara’s offer last year to use the same cell phone technology she utilized with her Birds to keep communications secure. He knew Jason, despite his protests, did the same when it came to his personal life. 

“Just be careful if you have to use your cane,” Tim warned as he popped the last of the bread in his mouth. “I can just see you whipping it around like a staff if you need to crack some heads.” 

“If it comes to that, we’re fucked since I only have one good leg to stand on and a semi useless one to kick ass with.” Jason opened his arms, gesturing for Tim to come closer. “Now come here, Mr. Garlic Breath, and start convincing me to cook for you more often.” 

Tim not so gracefully stumbled across his small kitchen and into Jason’s arms to start working on his boyfriend. 

He thought he did a good job.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun...next stop, Wayne Manor! So what are the chances a certain someone is home from his trip earlier than expected? I wouldn't do that to Tim, would I?


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven – Night Three (Early evening) 

Tim pulled up in front of Wayne Manor. He sat in his car a moment, taking in the sight. In the early evening light, the Manor practically glowed, the well-manicured grounds highlighting and framing the stately structure. Tim knew from experience that the gardens in the back were stunning at this time of day, with the soft light filtering through the trees. He’d always thought of the gardens as Alfred’s personal playground rather than the Manor itself. It took a skilled hand to maintain that level of beauty and wild elegance. He’d spent a good deal of time hiding in the gardens right after his mom died, taking some small comfort in knowing she would have greatly appreciated the work of art that came to life under Alfred’s care. 

He’d grown up in luxury, never wanting for anything, but compared to this, the Drakes were chump change. 

He got out of his car, grabbed his clothes, and walked up the front steps. Ringing the bell, it wasn’t very long before Alfred answered the door. “Welcome, Master Tim. It’s been too long.” 

Tim took the dig for what it was as he stepped inside. “Hey Alfred. That your passive-aggressive way of telling me I need to come by more often?” He gave the old man a quick hug. 

“Indeed. You’re always welcome here. Now let me take your suit and shoes and see what I can do to make them more presentable for tonight’s endeavor. I assume you have a good tie?” Alfred took the clothing bags from Tim. 

“I do. It’s the one Damian gave me for Christmas a couple years back.” 

“Ah yes. That was the year he decided everyone was getting ties, though I believe Miss Stephanie and Miss Cassandra received bracelets instead.” 

Tim chuckled. “Nice to see I wasn’t the only one. I thought he just had no idea what to get for me. Not that I expected a gift from him…” 

“It’s the thought that counts, as I have been trying to teach him for years, with varying degrees of success.” Alfred paused, then continued. “And how is Master Jason? I understand he is spending some time with you of late.” 

The question was asked in Alfred’s normal, dry tone but Tim felt his shoulders stiffen slightly as he looked at the old butler. He couldn’t know, could he? “Jason’s doing pretty good, I guess. We talked today, actually. Had PT with Dana this morning and wanted to complain about it.” Which was true, Jason did actually bitch about PT while they ate dinner. He had come clean with her too about overdoing it the night before so it wasn’t as rough as it could have been; he complained more about the lecture he received than anything else before moving on to his upcoming outing with Malloy this evening. 

“Your stepmother did an excellent job while Master Jason was still here, so I’m glad to see he is continuing the sessions.” 

Tim shrugged. “He’s got a goal and that was a nasty break. Where’re Dick and Steph?” He changed the subject. 

“Miss Stephanie is upstairs getting ready for tonight’s endeavor at the Germaine Club. Master Dick and Master Damian are downstairs getting ready for patrol.”

Tim felt his eyes narrow in confusion. “I thought Dick was going with me tonight? Something come up?” 

Alfred shook his head as he started walking across the large foyer and further into the Manor. Tim followed. “Master Bruce returned home a few hours ago. When Master Dick informed him of tonight’s plans, Master Bruce insisted on accompanying you instead. He is also upstairs getting ready.” 

Tim couldn’t help the scowl that appeared on his face. “Nice to see I’m kept abreast of these things.” 

“I’ll bring your clothes up to your usual room shortly. Have you eaten dinner?” Alfred wisely didn’t respond to Tim’s rhetorical comment. 

“Yes, before I left.” 

“Then I shall leave you to your devices.” Alfred continued walking, leaving Tim standing in front of the massive staircase to the upper levels of the Manor. 

He had a choice. Either he could go to the study and down into the Batcave to chew out Dick for not telling him about the change of plans or he could go upstairs and finally face Bruce about what happened almost four months ago. Tim shook his head in frustration. It was no choice at all. He hadn’t been to the Batcave since he enrolled in the police academy and Dick knew it. They all knew it. Tim wanted some measure of plausible deniability about their nightly activities and, slim though it may be, this was one of them. 

Tim started up the stairs. 

The guest room Alfred always set aside for him was on the very edge of the family wing. Down the long hallway were the rest of the rooms for the children of Bruce Wayne, including Jason’s. At the end of the hall, with the wide double doors, was Bruce’s massive room. Tim steeled himself and walked towards the doors, each step feeling heavier than the last. 

Outside the doors, he paused to collect himself. It frustrated him to no end that even after all these years, Bruce still made him feel like this. Like the little boy so desperate for his father’s approval. Never once had Jack Drake made Tim feel like this. Always Bruce. Tim snorted quietly to himself in slight disgust. What did that say about his relationship with his own father that he held Bruce’s opinion of him higher than his dad’s? Tim shook his head at the thought, knowing he was doing a disservice to Jack Drake. He never had to doubt that his dad was proud of him. 

Before he could convince himself otherwise, Tim knocked at the door, a few quick raps. 

“It’s open, Tim,” a voice called from inside. 

He opened the door, closing it behind him after stepping into the massive bedroom. The finely appointed room bore little touches here and there that it was actually in use, but otherwise looked like it could be any other large bedroom in the Manor. Bruce used this room for sleeping and clothes storage; the items that most people would find in what should be the most personal of spaces greatly lacking. Although Tim did spy framed pictures on the nightstand of each of his kids. Himself included he was surprised to note, dressed in his formal police uniform in what looked to be the day he graduated police academy. Alfred was in the picture with him, so it had to have been Barbara who took the photograph as they were the only two members of the Batfamily who came after he’d cut ties with them when he enrolled. 

Tim suppressed the surge of emotion at the memory. Looking back on that choice now, it had been stupid. But he’d needed to assert his independence and belief in his own choices and decisions, that he could fight for Gotham in his own way if Batman didn’t want him. 

He finally turned his gaze on the man himself. Bruce was mostly dressed, standing in front of a large mirror checking the fit of his waistcoat. His dark gray pinstripe slacks were perfectly tailored, as was the crisp white dress shirt he was wearing. Tim knew without even asking that the clothing cost more than he made over the course of three months. 

“Am I the only one who knocks besides Alfred?” he asked wryly. 

Bruce nodded. “Everyone else pretty much barges in.” Tim could see the older man watching him in the mirror. 

“Heard you were called out of town?” Small talk. Tim could make small talk with the best of them. 

“Yes. Justice League business up on the Watchtower. Clark needed assistance with wrangling Hal and Oliver.” 

Though this was certainly not the kind of small talk heard in Gotham high society. “Doesn’t that usually go better when Diana or Dinah are around?” 

“Always.” 

The conversation came to a standstill and Tim sighed. It came as no surprise that Bruce wasn’t going to start the real discussion they needed to have. He’d avoid it at all costs, keeping to safe topics. 

_Screw this._

“Nice of you to let me know about the change in plans tonight. Why are you coming instead of Dick? Do you feel like you need to keep an eye on me? Make sure I don’t go rogue again?” Tim’s voice was hard. He very consciously kept his arms at his side instead of crossing them like he wanted. 

A pained look crossed Bruce’s face as he turned from the mirror to face Tim. “No, Tim. I only want to help.” 

“Help how? Is this your oh so subtle way of taking over my case?”

“Tim…,” Bruce looked lost like he always did when trying to have a conversation that involved an emotion. “I’m not taking over anything. You’re doing a good job. You’ve been doing a good job for years.” 

Praise. Praise from Bruce. Tim’s world rocked a bit before settling back on its axis. “Bruce, you never do anything without a hidden meaning behind it, especially when you have to put on a suit and tie instead of your cowl. Forgive me if I don’t entirely believe you’re without an ulterior motive.” 

It was hard to say it, but Tim couldn’t let himself be distracted by Bruce telling him he thought he’s been doing good work. The words warmed him though as he knew they weren’t something Bruce would say lightly and if he didn’t mean them. 

Bruce sighed. For a moment, he looked old and tired. Gray hair peppered his temples and Tim knew if he walked a bit closer, he’d see the fine lines on his face that an almost permanent scowl had placed there. “What do you want me to say, Tim? I don’t have an ulterior motive tonight. I’m not going along to keep an eye on you. I don’t believe you’re going to go rogue again and call in Jason. I want to help in anyway I can.” 

Hot and cold. That’s how Tim would best describe his relationship with Bruce. The man would fully embrace Tim and teach him things one moment, then push him away as soon as he realized what he was doing. As Tim got older, he started to wonder if it was because he still had an actual father who was _alive_. That Bruce didn’t want to take over the role that belonged to Jack Drake. 

For the first time in his adult life, Tim saw the truth in those thoughts. Bruce wanted to help, not just because the case interested him, but because it was something he could finally do _with_ Tim in a capacity where it was simply the two of them. Tim Drake and Bruce Wayne working on a case together. 

“You really do suck at this, don’t you?” Tim asked in disbelief. “Is it so hard to say you want to work with me? To spend some time with me?” 

A look of chagrin appeared on Bruce’s face. He nodded slowly. “Yes.” 

Tim shook his head ruefully, chuckling a bit and feeling himself relax. “I’m going to go get dressed. I should be in the study in about 30 minutes so we can start going over the plan. Tell Stephanie.” 

He quickly turned and left the room.

*****  

A short while later, Tim walked into Bruce’s study, adjusting the cufflinks on his sleeves. The only piece of clothing that Alfred hadn’t approved of was his dress shirt. Tim was wearing one of Damian’s and borrowing his cufflinks. It was a little large around the collar, but Tim wasn’t going to complain. Compared to the Bruce’s bedroom, this room showed much more of the man’s personality. Fine art hung next to pictures of Dick, Jason, Stephanie, and Damian on the walls. Tim wouldn’t be surprised if one or two of the paintings were some of Damian’s original works.

Stephanie was waiting for him. She rose from the chair in front of Bruce’s massive desk, looking fantastic in an eggplant colored dress and some simple gold jewelry, her blonde hair elegantly curled and framing her face in soft waves. She’d always hated pulling it back into anything other than a ponytail. Her dress draped beautifully across her bust, covering her from her collarbone down to just above her knees. Tim suspected the back was completely open.

“Steph, you look amazing.” He held out his arms.

“Of course I do, but it’s nice to hear it from someone besides Alfred.” Stephanie fell into Tim’s arms, hugging him tightly. Tim felt smooth skin and knew he was right. 

“How’ve you been?” she asked. A hand reached up to trace the crease between Tim’s brows and poked a bit at the lines around his eyes. “You’re too young to have wrinkles like this, Tim.” 

Letting go, Tim smiled. “I think I was born old,” he joked back. 

“I won’t argue with that!” 

They sat at the chairs in front of the desk. Tim leaned back, enjoying the soft leather of the chair that shouldn’t be as comfortable as it looked. “I think it’s this case. And the case before that, and the one before that…I like what I do, Steph, but it wears on you. I can’t wait for winter, at least things will slow down a bit.” He sounded as tired as he felt.

“You’re preaching to the choir, ex-boyfriend. I know I never had the knack for detective work like you did, but busting skulls one night and then seeing them back out on the streets a few nights later does get old after awhile.” Steph shook her head, the light from the early evening sun through the windows dancing in her golden hair. 

“Now who’s preaching?” Tim teased. 

Stephanie smiled, but a serious look quickly appeared on her face. “Before Bruce comes down, I want to ask you something.” 

Tim felt a sinking feeling in his gut. “Go for it.” 

“Black Mask…why did you reach out to Jason? I never suspected you two even knew each other, let alone well enough to call up out of the blue. He would only tell me that you and he had an understanding, but Dick told me later that he actually asked you to work with him as a partner. There’s a story here, Tim, and I want the details.” Steph finished in a no-nonsense tone Tim knew better than to disregard. 

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off a pending headache and closed his eyes before speaking. 

“It’s a long story, one that’s not going to be finished before Bruce gets here. But, I will say this…if you had seen Tyler, then Isaac, then you’d understand why I pulled out all the stops. Not just crime scene pictures, but actually been there. Those kids were fucking tortured, Steph. No kid should ever have to go through that and anyone who can do such a thing to a child needs to be off the streets permanently. That’s why I called Jason. If I found their killer before him, great. Justice system will go to work and throw the book at him. But when I found out it was Black Mask, I knew there was no way in hell the system would work. He’d just get shipped off to Arkham and be out in the streets again after the next breakout.” 

“That doesn’t explain why you were setting fires with Red Hood the night Black Mask died.” The voice came from behind Tim. Bruce had entered the room silently while Tim was talking to Stephanie. 

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Tim replied flippantly as he opened his eyes. “We needed to draw out Black Mask and arson is something Red Hood is known to enjoy on occasion.” 

Across from him, Stephanie spoke up, not letting Bruce’s arrival derail her. “But Jason could have set those fires on his own. He’s been very tight lipped about what happened that night with everyone besides Dick. Why you?” 

Tim glared at Stephanie, then at Bruce as he circled around them both to sit at his desk. “I was the distraction, all right? We knew the fires would make Batman come running as well, so I was supposed to distract Bruce while Jason took care of Black Mask.” 

A pained look appeared on Bruce’s face and Steph winced a bit in sympathy. _Looks like Dick told Steph what Batman did to me too._

“What’s this about Jason asking you to be his partner, Tim?” Bruce asked. “You’ve never shown an inclination towards vigilante work, so why now?” 

Tim stared disbelievingly at Bruce. “Never shown an inclination?” He almost spluttered. “Are you forgetting exactly how you and I first met? You shot me down, over and over again. When I lived here, I soaked in _everything_ I could get out of you, Alfred, and Dick. Steph too when you brought her on board. It’s because of you that I’m a detective. Can you blame me when another vigilante shows an interest in my work and thinks I can help him with something besides bashing skulls? Especially the Red Hood, your former Robin?” 

Stephanie’s eyes grew wide. “You wanted to be _Robin?_ ” she said accusingly. “Tim, you never said _anything_ about this when we were together. Is that why you were with me? Because I was Robin instead of you?” 

“No,” Tim said firmly. “By the time you and I started dating, it had been three years since I went to Bruce and told him Batman needs a Robin. I was living my life and studying computer science at the time, if you recall. You kept teasing me that I liked my computers more than you. I told you back then I wanted to be a cop when I was older and your response was that I was much better suited to the CSI team than the bullpen.” 

“I remember. I also remember that we grew apart after you went to the police academy. That you wanted to put some distance between yourself and Gotham’s vigilantes since it put you in a compromising position as an officer of the law.” Steph’s blue eyes were flinty. She was pissed off and it showed.

Tim was getting there too. “I was 18 when I said that,” he snapped. “I’m almost 24 now and a lot has happened in the last five, six years. Black Mask was not the first time I asked any of you for assistance with a case, even when I was just a beat cop, and you know it. However, it was the first time I asked for help from _Jason_ and that’s why you’re upset. That I crossed some unspoken line by asking Red Hood for help instead of you, but we discovered we work very well together, to the point where he asked if I would partner with him again in the future.” 

Tim’s voice grew quiet but no less firm. “I know I asked him to kill Black Mask. It’s something I have to live with everyday. But if us working together keeps him from pulling the trigger again, then I consider that a victory. And who knows, perhaps it’ll be him keeping me from having to do it instead.” 

Steph’s mouth snapped shut, as did Bruce’s, whatever they were going to say silenced by Tim’s admission. 

Tim continued, using the same cutting tone he started with as he glared at both of them. “Now, if this is pick on Tim night, I’m going to get up and leave right now. I can call Dick and make him take me like we originally planned. If this is an inadvertent bitch session, then get over it and let’s get to work. So what’s it going to be?” 

This was why he never came to the Manor anymore. He could handle each member of this crazy family individually without difficulty, but put more than one of them together at a time and it _always_ turned into drama. Tim could only imagine what things were going to look like when they found out he and Jason were dating. Or trying to date. There had yet to be an actual date date, but they were _working_ on it. 

As the silence dragged on, Tim sighed and started to rise from his chair. “Fine, if this is how it’s going to be, I’m leaving.” 

Stephanie quickly rose to stop him, reaching out and grabbing his coat sleeve. “No, it’s not. I don’t care what Bruce decides, but I was a part of the original plan whether it was him or Dick. I’m coming. You and I have a lot to talk about, but right now, we have work to do.” She pointed a finely manicured nail in Tim’s face. “Don’t think for a second we’re not going to continue this conversation later though.” 

“Fair enough,” Tim agreed. He looked at Bruce. “You coming or do I need to call Dick?”

Bruce stood up and straightened his already immaculate suit jacket. “I’m coming. I’ll let Alfred know we’re ready and to bring the car around.” He quickly walked past Tim and Stephanie and out the door of the study. 

Tim narrowed his eyes at the closing door. “I wonder what he’s more uncomfortable with? The fact that Jason and I became friends or that you and I started going into our dating history?” 

Steph snorted in a very unladylike manner. “Both.”

*****  

Tim and Stephanie strolled through the Germaine Club, arms linked and whispering softly into the others’ ear, looking very much like a young couple in love. It wasn’t hard to pretend, as Tim still cared very deeply for Stephanie and from the look on her face, it wasn’t difficult for her either. 

“What on earth is that color?” Tim whispered, gesturing unobtrusively at a dress worn by a young, bored looking socialite. He considered himself better than average for a man at paying attention to women’s clothing and styles, but that red-orange-brown color was beyond him. 

“Ick,” Steph replied. “I’d say it’s a cry for help. Money can’t buy good taste.” 

“Considering the annual membership fee here, it can buy a stylist.” Tim shook his head as Stephanie giggled. 

Their plan was simple. Bruce would wander around doing his Brucie act until he ran into Sinclair. He’d then mention his daughter Stephanie was finally settling down with a nice young man and that he hoped for some grandchildren sooner rather than later. Tim and Steph would then come strolling up and engage in the conversation as well. 

All they needed was a single hint Sinclair knew something about an adoption agency and Tim could call Captain Pierce to get his search warrant. The man was standing by, staying late at the station tonight waiting for his call to action. 

Until then, they wandered and made random comments about the people and the over the top decor of the club itself. 

The Germaine Club first opened its doors to Gotham’s elite almost 200 years ago. It started as a gentleman’s club, then after World War I, it converted to a country club that welcomed men and women. Despite the change, the building itself still sported a more ornately rustic look, featuring rich dark wood and paneling, ornate gilded chandeliers and light fixtures, and what Tim thought was a rather eclectic taste in art. He spotted English hunting scenes on one wall, followed by an Impressionism garden scene. Thanks to his early upbringing, Tim had a good eye for art and shared his thoughts with Stephanie. 

“They all look old fashioned to me,” she said quietly, after Tim finished explaining about some of the different art styles they were seeing. 

“Alfred would have your hide if he heard you say that.” Tim smiled ruefully. 

Stephanie flashed a brilliant smile in his direction. “Then it’s a good thing he never will. I will be the first to admit I have zero taste when it comes to good art. If I see something I like, then I like it.” 

“My parents were collectors, Mom especially. Whenever her and Dad would come home from a trip, she’d always show me the new pieces and tell their stories.” Tim felt a moment of nostalgia, thinking of his mother, Janet. Art and archeology were her passions and she enjoyed it when Tim took an interest. At the time though, he did it to be able to spend time with his mom more than anything else. 

“You never talk about your mom,” Stephanie said quietly, a serious look on her perfectly made up face. “Just Dana.” She squeezed Tim’s arm. 

Tim shrugged as they made their way to the room where Bruce was holding court. “It’s been over 10 years since she died and I know for a fact my life is not what she’d have wanted for me. She wanted me to take over DI and started grooming me pretty early on for it. Dad says I’m a lot like her in terms of my personality, that I get my drive and my focus from her, as well as my brains. I just use them for other things.” 

“I’ve met your dad. You can be a complete goofball just like him when you want to be.” A wry smirk danced across her lips. 

“Thanks,” Tim laughed. 

Across the room, Brucie was in full form. When Bruce Wayne entered the club earlier, the manager about passed out he was so surprised to see him. This was not a common venue to see Bruce make an appearance at without a full on gala occurring, but as he explained to anyone who asked, “Steffy’s new boy needs a reminder of what the good life looks like.” 

To those who knew Stephanie well, the look she shot Bruce at the use of that nickname should have vaporized him on the spot. 

A few introductions and pats on the cheek later from some older ladies who remembered Tim as a child, he and Stephanie were left alone. The club was a place to be seen and everyone wanted to be seen speaking with Bruce Wayne. Which was fine with Tim as he and Stephanie could very easily engage Sinclair if needed on their own. 

Though it looked like they wouldn’t have to as the man in question was in Bruce’s circle already. Ross Sinclair was a tall brown haired man an inch or two shorter than Bruce with surprisingly broad shoulders. As were all the men in the room, he was in a well-tailored suit, the cut revealing a trim waist. 

“He must work out,” Stephanie muttered. “He’s a few years older than Dick and, from what I’ve seen, most of that age bracket are starting to go soft around the middle.” 

Tim quickly smothered his laugh by pretending to cough. “Like his abs could even be compared to Dick’s.” 

Steph suppressed a laugh, gracefully covering her mouth to hide the unladylike grin. “The abs of the men in my family are all insane. But nothing compares to Dick’s ass.” 

“Dick’s ass is in a league all its own.” Tim privately thought Jason’s may be in the same league, but the man favored cargo pants and loose denim, so all he could use for a comparison were the older man’s thighs and the light groping he’d managed to get in earlier this evening before dinner. 

“No arguments there. So how’re we doing this, Detective Drake?” Stephanie took a firm grip on Tim’s arm. Outwardly, her appearance didn’t change, but Tim could feel her putting her game face on. Batgirl was present in all but the suit. 

He narrowed his eyes slightly, taking in Bruce, Sinclair, and the rest of the crowd around Bruce. “Let’s see what Bruce does when he sees us. There’s a few too many people around him and I’d like for some of them to go away.” 

Stephanie nodded and they proceeded further into the large sitting room. 

Bruce quickly spotted them. “Steffy! Timmy! Over here!” he called out loudly, raising an arm and waiving at them. 

“I really hate Brucie,” Steph said quietly, barely moving her lips as they walked closer to Bruce. 

“It’s definitely not something I miss about Gotham society,” Tim replied, just as quietly. 

“You’re lucky.” 

“Yup.” 

As they approached, Bruce quickly walked forward and placed one arm over Stephanie’s shoulders and the other over Tim’s, effectively separating the two. Tim knew he was not beneath using Brucie as a cover to get away with things he would never do as Bruce, though whether this was a misguided attempt to separate Tim and Stephanie or a tactical maneuver, Tim wasn’t certain. The movement did reduce the circle around Bruce to just a few people, one of which was Ross Sinclair, so Tim was inclined to believe the latter. He was glad to see Bruce had been of similar mind in there being too many people around him. 

“I was just telling the story of how you two used to date in high school and reconnected via Facebook not too long ago! Isn’t that great?” Brucie grinned widely. “Steffy here’s had the worst track record with men ever since, so I’m glad to see her and Tim giving it another shot. Perhaps I’ll get some grandkids finally, ha ha!” 

Stephanie very appropriately blushed and raised a hand to her mouth to hide her reaction. “Bruce! Come on, you’re going to embarrass Tim!” 

Tim had cringed at Bruce’s comment, also playing his part. “We’ve barely even touched on that topic, Bruce. Why don’t you give us a few more months to see how things go before bringing that up again?” He chuckled abashedly. 

Bruce’s face lighted up in excitement. “But you have talked about it! I’ll fully support whatever you two decide, even if you decide to adopt. Just make it soon, I’m not getting any younger.” 

Throughout the conversation, Tim was keeping a close eye on Ross Sinclair. At Bruce’s last comment, a flash of _something_ appeared on the man’s face. It wasn’t a good look, of that Tim was certain. But it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. 

Sinclair chimed in. “Some friends of mine recently adopted a little girl. I can get you the name of the agency if you like, Mr. Wayne. For the future.” 

Tim may have been out of practice, but he kept his polite society face on at Sinclair’s statement. Inwardly, he was jumping for joy. 

_Hook, line, and sinker._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like the insight into Tim's relationships with Stephanie and Bruce. Steph is a hoot to write and she will certainly be making another appearance in this story...and make a certain connection that Tim really wishes she wouldn't. But that's still a ways down the road!
> 
> Next week, a murder is solved and Tim busts his knuckles.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those old-school Robin comics fans, you'll appreciate the cameo coming up!

Chapter Eight – Day Three (Morning and Late afternoon)

Ross Sinclair looked spectacularly out of place sitting in the small interrogation room at the Gotham Country Sherriff’s Office. Bristol was technically part of the county jurisdiction, not Gotham City’s, so the officers that had been sent to collect Sinclair brought him there. Officially, he was there for questioning, but if what Tim and Malloy had found last night at the adoption agency’s office was any indication, he’d be arrested and transferred to the city soon enough.

Malloy was in the room with the man already, going over some preliminary niceties they were required to get out of the way. Sinclair hadn’t called a lawyer yet, but both he and Malloy knew it wouldn’t be long once Tim showed his face. 

Tim watched Malloy work from the other side of the one-way mirror. Next to him, Gotham County Sheriff Shotgun Smith looked on. It hadn’t taken too much convincing to have him send deputies to collect Sinclair, but it had taken some fancy legwork to keep the man from doing the interrogation himself. He had a thing against city cops, but he remembered Tim from when he was a kid and living at Wayne Manor. 

“Looks like pretty boy there finally has your guy warmed up,” he growled. 

“Yeah,” Tim replied. “He’s got a few more questions to get out of the way before I come in. Gotta admit, I’m curious to see if he even remembers me from last night. I may have been arm candy, but his eyes were all on Bruce Wayne.” 

Smith scoffed. “Can’t believe you convinced that airhead to help. But then again, you’ve always had a way about you, Drake. Talked your way out of that underage driving ticket at 13 after all.” 

Tim grinned. The sheriff was referring to the time he’d pulled Tim over for speeding and reckless driving when he was on his way to the hospital one night after getting a call that his dad was suddenly going south. Bruce and Alfred were both unavailable that night, so Tim took it upon himself to borrow a car from the garage. After getting pulled over, he’d explained what was going on and that he had to get to Gotham Mercy immediately. The sheriff humored him and took him to catch Tim in the lie, but had been in for the surprise of his life when Tim ran up to the ICU and was let in right away. He’d followed and stayed with Tim until Alfred finally arrived. 

The man may be a hardass, but had a good heart underneath. 

“You were just soft on a young kid with a dying dad.” 

“Yeah and look at you now. GCPD detective. Anytime you get sick of the bullshit in the city, I’ve got a place for you here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

In the interrogation room, Sinclair was still looking cool and calm. Malloy had just asked him about how he knew Roger Whitaker, that they had people who said he’d been seen with the dead man just days before he was killed. Tim idly wondered if Jason could convince those men to appear in court if needed. 

“I’m not familiar with anyone by that name,” Sinclair was saying. “And what would I be doing in Crime Alley of all places? Not exactly the best part of town for someone like me.” Tim hated when people pulled the money card.

“That’s interesting because we have several people giving a description of a man that looks very much like you and a car that’s registered in your name. Said you were at the Alley meeting Whitaker a few times. Someone like you stands out,” Malloy said dryly, leaning back in his chair, cool and calm as could be, despite the fact he’d gotten no sleep the night before. He, Tim, and a number of police officers exercised the search warrant Pierce had got them and had been up all night going over what they’d found. Sinclair’s ship was sunk, he just didn’t know it yet. 

“I’m not sure what to say, Detective Malloy. I’ve got enemies, any rich man does, so perhaps someone’s out to get me.” Sinclair was smooth, Tim would give him that. 

“There’s your cue, Drake.” Sheriff Smith gave him a grin. “Give’em hell.” 

“Always do,” Tim said and left the room, making sure he had his folder with him. 

He knocked on the door to the interrogation room, giving Malloy a chance to get ready for him. Counting to 10, he entered. Sinclair’s eyes widened at the sight of Tim. “Hello again, Mr. Sinclair,” Tim said smoothly as he slid into the seat next to his partner and across from the other man. 

“Drake?” Sinclair asked incredulously. “What are you doing here? I thought…” he trailed off, realizing finally he didn’t in fact know what to think. 

“Didn’t you catch it last night?” Tim asked. “I’m a detective with the GCPD. I thought for sure Stephanie or Bruce said something to you.” Neither had, but Sinclair would only have paid attention if Bruce said it, the way he was hanging on the man’s every word the night before. 

Sinclair was starting to look a little nervous. “Not that I recall. I remember hearing you were making your comeback into polite society.” He tried to recover. 

Tim snorted, not bothering to hide his laugh. “I’ve long since given up on what passes for polite society in this town. Stephanie’s a friend though, has been for a long time. And when I asked for a favor, she gladly granted it.” 

“And what favor was that?” 

“To get into the Germaine Club to see you in your natural setting.” Tim leaned back in his chair, ready to play hardball. Next to him, Malloy shifted and took the folder Tim passed over to him. “So tell us, Mr. Sinclair, about your work in the adoption business. Malloy and I found the most interesting things when we searched your offices earlier this morning.” 

The man went white and swallowed hard. “I want my lawyer,” he demanded. 

Tim smirked. “Of course you do. In the meantime,” he stood up and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pockets. “Ross Sinclair, you have the right to remain to silent…” 

***** 

Later that day, Tim typed like a man possessed at his desk in the precinct. He looked a bit more rumpled than usual, but at least his dress shirt was tucked into his jeans and his tie was still on, though saying it was at half-mast would have been generous. His black hair was messy from how often he’d run a hand through it over the course of the morning. 

Sinclair was in lockup at Gotham County waiting to be transferred to the city jail. His lawyer was trying to get a bail set, but right now, the judge was still hedging, waiting on Tim and Malloy’s report. 

Across from him, Malloy looked only slightly better as he dictated. “…initial reports indicate nine children were obtained illegally and placed with unsuspecting families through Sinclair’s adoption agency. No records yet about Roger Whitaker’s connection or Milo Mitchell’s son being child number ten, but we did find a large amount of cash in a black duffle bag that matches the outgoing dollar amounts in the ledger that preceded the previous adoptions. God, what a piece of shit.” Malloy growled and took a sip from his coffee cup, drinking the office swill for the first time in a while. He made a face at the taste. 

Tim quickly hit backspace to delete that last line from his report. “Let’s make a call to Captain Mendoza. I don’t know who she assigned to Mitchell’s murder, but perhaps we can get an update.”

A file was suddenly dropped on Tim’s desk, startling both him and Malloy. “Ask and ye shall receive,” said Captain Mendoza with a smirk, standing over the seated detectives, but just barely, short as she was. “I called Pierce a bit ago and he said you two were here writing up your notes and going over evidence. I thought I’d stop by and make a personal delivery. Good job, you two.” The smirk morphed into a proud grin. 

“Thanks, Captain.” Tim reached for the file before Malloy could. Reading quickly, his eyes widened. “They found her! Oh my god, that’s great.” 

Malloy made grabby hands at Tim. “What’s the story? C’mon, don’t keep me waiting!” 

Captain Mendoza started talking while Tim read. “The girlfriend’s name is Grace Jacobson. About eight weeks ago, she gave birth to a little boy she named Samuel. Around the same time, Mitchell was released from jail and started living with her and their son. As you can imagine, money’s tight and Jacobson goes from one job to the next while Mitchell played stay at home dad. However, four days ago, Mitchell and the baby disappear.” 

Tim shuddered at the memory of the little boy’s clenched fist. The tiny fingers and the chubby arm of an otherwise healthy infant. 

“The timing fits the ME’s report,” Malloy commented. 

Mendoza nodded. “Day after you found Whitaker, Mitchell returned to the apartment to pack a few things and leave. Jacobson walked in on him and they start fighting over where he’s been and where the baby is. He apparently told her the truth about selling him to be adopted into a good family, but she lost it when he told her Samuel had somehow died during the transfer. She threw some things at him, one of which clipped him in the head enough to stun him and she took the kitchen knife across his gut. She then ran for it.”

“Samuel Mitchell,” Tim said quietly. He pulled up the ME’s file of the baby’s autopsy. “The ME could find no immediate cause of death. We’re still waiting on the blood screening and the tox report, but he’s thinking its SIDs.” 

Malloy shook his head sadly, the movement echoed by Mendoza. “If that’s the case, the kid never stood a chance.” 

The somber moment was interrupted by Captain Pierce as he walked up to Tim’s desk. “I got the details from Tina on her way over here. Jacobson admitted to killing Mitchell, but said she didn’t know Whitaker or Sinclair at all.” 

“My detectives are pretty positive she’s not lying,” Mendoza confirmed. “But you both are welcome to come and interview her yourselves.”

Tim nodded and saved his file. Locking his computer, he stood up and fixed his tie. Across from him, Malloy set aside his files and did the same. 

“Let’s go,” said Tim.

*****  

Later that night, Tim stalked into his apartment, stiff legged and his back rigid. As he closed the front door and locked it, he carefully set his keys on the table by the door and took off his shoes. He quickly walked across the living room to his office and threw open the closet door, revealing a large punching bag. 

Tim didn’t even bother with his gloves or taping his hands and started throwing punches and kicks at the bag, taking out his frustrations on the solid bag. 

Grace Jacobson didn’t know anything about Roger Whitaker or Ross Sinclair. She swore up and down that today was the first time she ever heard those names. The poor woman was a mess, very much in pain over the loss of her son. As she told Tim and Malloy, Sammy was her everything. Without him, what was the point? 

Mendoza made a recommendation that she be kept on suicide watch. 

Ross Sinclair simply wasn’t talking. Tim and Malloy had found plenty of evidence of illegal trafficking, enough to easily put the man away for 30-40 years. They were still trying to pin Whitaker’s murder on him, but the man had a solid alibi the night Whitaker was tortured and killed. Sinclair also didn’t have the medical background needed to be able to inflict the dozens of surgically precise cuts and keep the man from immediately bleeding out. 

The man’s arrest also caught the attention of Gotham’s media. The murders and the illegal adoption ring were front and center on all of the local news channels tonight. The GCPD had a spokesperson for media statements, so Tim and Malloy talked to her this evening as well so that she could make a sound-byte for the cameras. 

Tim hated the media attention. It didn’t help that he was in the society column today as Stephanie Brown-Wayne’s newest squeeze. Someone at the _Gotham Gazette_ remembered his name and history with the Waynes. The intrepid reporter didn’t know he was a detective though, so they hadn’t put two and two together as to why Tim was at the Germaine Club last night. Yet. Luckily, no one at the precinct said anything to him about it, but there was always that chance. He knew it was a possibility when he and Dick made up their original plan, though the substitution of Bruce for Dick turned out for the better in the long run. It was a risk he was willing to take. People would likely make the connection when his and Malloy’s names were released as the investigating detectives for Sinclair’s arrest.

All in all, it was a good day. The illegal adoptions were shut down, a murder was solved, and an unnamed baby’s identity was discovered and his own death solved. Tim and Malloy worked hard and it paid off in the end. 

But Whitaker’s murder was still open. Malloy and Jason hadn’t had any luck the night before with talking to Whitaker’s victims. The only family member who had any kind of medical training was on deployment in Afghanistan with his Army unit. Malloy had regaled Tim over lunch about his adventure the night before with Jason. From the sound of it, they worked well together, not that Tim ever had any doubts about that. Thankfully, there were no fights, though Jason did have to pull a knife on a pimp who thought he could try getting up in Malloy’s face for talking to one of the women on the list. Tim was pretty certain that pimp was going to get his ass handed to him the next time Red Hood made an appearance. The one thing Red Hood cracked down on almost as hard as dealing drugs to kids was knocking around prostitutes. 

Tim didn’t have a clue as to where to go next. The case was going cold and it was frustrating the _crap_ out of him. 

He threw one final punch at the bag, following it with a finishing kick, and leaned against it as he caught his breath. Behind him, Tim heard a low whistle. He turned to see Jason leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, dressed casually in ripped jeans and a white t-shirt. 

“I came over to give you a congratulatory hand-job, but it looks like I may need to stick a domino on you and start a gang fight for you to bust some heads instead.” 

Tim chuckled slightly. The workout had finally worn him out. “As appealing as both of those sound right now, I’ll pass. I never went to bed last night and I’m fucking exhausted.” 

“Christ, stalker, when are you going to learn to take care of yourself?” Jason shook his head in wry amusement. 

“Probably around the same time you do. How’s your leg today?” 

“I’m still standing.” Jason walked into the room and wrapped an arm around Tim’s waist, gently pulling him away from the punching bag. “Come on, let’s get you in the shower. I’ll tape your knuckles when you’re clean.” 

Tim raised a hand to his face and winced. His knuckles were a bloody mess. 

“Yeah, that’s going to hurt soon. C’mon.” Jason walked Tim across the room, down the hall and into his bedroom. Tim idly noticed his bed was neatly made. 

He sighed and took off his tie, dropping it to the floor in a messy pile. The buttons on his shirt were defeating him though, his fingers refusing to perform the delicate task of slipping a button through a buttonhole. Tim was about ready to rip the damn shirt off when Jason started doing it for him. He dropped his arms to the side and just stood there, eyes closing as exhaustion hit him. 

There was a quick tugging at his waist as his belt was undone, followed by another tug as Jason unbuttoned his jeans. “Not exactly how I wanted to get my hands on you tonight,” he joked as he slid Tim’s jeans down his narrow hips. 

“I want your mouth on me,” Tim mumbled sleepily. 

“That can be arranged. For now, let’s get you in the shower before you fall on your face.” Jason tugged Tim in the direction of the bathroom. 

While Jason turned the shower on and tested the temperature, Tim decided he really didn’t care if his boyfriend saw him naked. The man had seen Tim at what was undoubtedly one of his worst moments the other night and hadn’t run. He’d stayed, shocking himself too. 

Tim slid his boxers off and removed his socks. He stepped around Jason and into the shower, not caring what the temperature was. 

“Well, if that’s how you want to play it,” Jason said from outside the partially open shower door. “That’s a pretty nice ass you have there, stalker.” 

“Thanks,” Tim said, a bite of sarcasm entering his voice as the shock from the tepid water woke him up a bit. “I imagine you’ve seen some nice ones in your line of work.” 

Jason barked a laugh. “Male and female. Dickiebird’s by far the best ass period.” 

“Who’s the best woman?” Tim felt a bit of curiosity as the man paused in thought. He took the time to start washing his hair. 

“Can I have a three-way tie? If so, then Starfire, Troia, and Wonder Woman.” 

Tim hissed as the shampoo stung the cuts on his knuckles. “I’ll allow it. I wonder what Kori, Donna, and Diana would think knowing they lost out to Dick?” 

Jason chuckled. He still hadn’t moved from the open stall door, keeping an eye on Tim. Another of those warm feelings went through the shorter man. It was nice to know he was doing it more out of concern about him falling than ogling his rear. 

“Everyone loses out to Dick. His ass needs to be cast in bronze or something for posterity.” 

Tim groaned at the word play. “That was horrible.” He grabbed his body wash and started lathering up. He didn’t think he could actually grab his soap, as his hands were finally starting to hurt from the earlier abuse. 

“I thought it was rather clever. I keep forgetting you actually know a lot of the superhero community by their real names.” 

Nodding, Tim rinsed off. “Dick was dating Kori while I was staying at the Manor. She and Donna came by a few times while he was acting as Batman. I met Diana one time when she and Clark came by the Cave while I was running comms for Dick.” He grabbed the handle for his shower and turned it off. 

Behind him, Tim heard the shower door open more and felt a towel being draped over his shoulders. “So you know the big guy too.”

Tim ran the towel over his wet head and yawned before wrapping it around his waist. “I will never forget meeting Superman for the first time.” 

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I don’t think any of us will ever forget that first meeting. Well, the demon brat perhaps, but he’s hard to impress.” Jason stepped away from the shower so Tim could step out. He had Tim’s first aid kit already open on the counter. “Sit,” he said, gesturing at the closed toilet seat. 

Tim sat gratefully and laid his left hand on the folded towel Jason had placed there. The big man ripped open an alcohol wipe and started dabbing at the cuts. Tim hissed again at the sting, but didn’t say anything. 

Jason quickly cleaned up his left hand, slathering a gauze pad with some medicinal ointment and wrapping it snuggly to keep it in place. Switching hands, Jason took a look at the right hand. “Pretty evenly messed up. You ambidextrous?” he asked. 

“A bit left dominant, but I can do just about anything with my right that I can do with my left.” Tim yawned again. 

“Good to know. Almost done, stalker.” Jason cleaned and wrapped Tim’s right hand. When he was done, he tossed the wrappers in the garbage and started packing away the kit. 

Tim just sat there, watching Jason’s deft movements. “It’s like you’ve done this before,” he giggled tiredly. 

Jason laughed as well. “You could say that. I do most of my first aid on myself. The bigger stuff, I’ll go to Leslie’s clinic. Sometimes the Cave, but that’s only if it’s closer. _Much closer_.” 

It pained Tim to imagine Jason sitting in a safe house alone, stitching himself up. “You can come here, you know. When Red Hood’s really back. I can patch you up too.” 

He could feel Jason’s eyes on him. “You sure about that, stalker? You really want the Red Hood under your roof?” 

Tim looked up at Jason, blue eyes meeting blue eyes. “He’s already under my roof,” he said firmly, standing up and taking a step closer to the taller man to wrap his arms around his waist and rest his head against Jason’s shoulder. “He sleeps in my bed too.” 

Jason shuddered in his arms. After a moment, Tim felt Jason return the embrace, ducking his head to rest on top of Tim’s. “I really hope we know what we’re doing,” he muttered into Tim’s wet hair. 

“I’m making it up as I go along.” 

Laughing, Jason let go and led Tim into the bedroom. “That makes me feel better, cuz I sure as hell am too.” He pulled down the covers. 

Tim sat down on the bed and watched Jason go to his dresser to pull out a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. He tossed both at Tim, who made a face as he started getting dressed. 

Tossing the towel to the floor, Tim curled up beneath a sheet that smelled a bit like Jason. He hadn’t been there last night, so the scent was left over from the previous night. Day. Whatever. “You coming?” he asked, closing his eyes. 

“Wasn’t sure you wanted me to.” Tim could hear Jason moving around and some clothing rustling. 

“I think we already established I want you.” 

“Yeah, we did. Soon, stalker. When you’re not about to pass out on me.” Tim heard the light switch off and felt Jason slide into bed next to him. He quickly scooted over to the bigger man and cuddled up against his side. 

Tim fell asleep almost immediately.

***** 

The next morning, Tim stared at the whiteboard of open cases in the bullpen. Baby Doe’s name had been replaced with Samuel Mitchell and crossed off. Case closed. Almost all the detectives in the room had applauded when Captain Pierce made the change to the board. No one liked an unsolved murder when it involved a child. The only person who hadn’t was Cassius Black. The man glowered at Tim and Malloy and stalked out of the room, his partner Simpson trailing behind him. Tim watched warily, glad he would soon be going back to his normal evening shift and not having to see the man aside from when he walked into the building in the afternoon. 

Roger Whitaker’s name was still in red. It was a color Tim despised seeing on the board under his and Malloy’s names. 

Tim and Malloy worked diligently on the case for the rest of the week, following the possible mob lead that led nowhere. They also never found who had put Whitaker in contact with Sinclair in the first place. It was tempting to ask Jason to see if he could find out for them, considering his reputation in Crime Alley and the Bowery, but Tim was pretty certain that connection wouldn’t give him what he wanted, which was the name of Whitaker’s killer. He knew in his gut that the adoption ring and Whitaker’s brutal murder were unrelated, that it was tied into his previous assaults. But there was no proof. 

Tim went back to the warehouse to comb it for any other possible clues, but it was no use. As he suspected, the one spot that could have been cleaned up was right by the elevator, with all kinds of new tracks and prints mucking up what may have been left. 

All too soon, new murders took priority. After a few weeks, Whitaker’s name was removed from the whiteboard and the files packaged up and sent downstairs. 

The case was cold.

 

End Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is the end of Part 1! I planned for this a long time ago and can't believe it's finally here. Before Part 2 starts, I'm going to post two interludes next week (two postings in one week, lucky readers!) that will give a bit of insight as to what is really going on here. 
> 
> I'm also posting another piece tonight that's a companion piece to this fic, but from Malloy's POV, so be sure to check that out later!


	10. Interlude One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised two updates this week as we transition into Part 2. Here's the first one! The next will be Friday.

Interlude One 

The living room was immaculate. Every piece of fine brown leather furniture in its place and arranged in a way that was most aesthetically pleasing to the eye. Tasteful and expensive paintings and other pieces of decor hung from the walls or were displayed subtly throughout the ranch-style house. The room was light and airy, gauzy curtains across the windows moving slightly from the air conditioning blowing cool air into the room. 

A man turned the page of the _Gotham Gazette_ to page 6 to continue reading the story from page 1. He was tall and slender, but broad about the shoulders in a way that spoke of strength and power. His brownish-blonde hair was peppered at the temples with a rather distinguished looking gray that faded into the lighter shade of his hair. Long and elegant fingers grasped the paper wide open as he read further. He liked the tactile feel of the newspaper in his hands rather than clicking through articles online. The feel of the newsprint made it seem more _real_. 

The story was incredible, about how one of Gotham’s elite had turned child broker, finding unwanted children from the poorest neighborhoods in the city and selling them to unsuspecting families who only wanted a child to love. It was sad and horrific and ended in tragedy for one young infant boy. 

The legal ramifications would be going on for _months_ , if not years. 

All of this unfolded because of one man’s murder. A murder the police still hadn’t solved, despite their best efforts. The man smiled, his thin lips pursing slightly in a way that made the smile look more like a grimace. Across from him, an orange tabby cat was stretched out on its elaborate scratching post and tree house. 

“I’m doubly glad now I cleansed the world of that man,” he said in firm tone of voice to the cat. “Look what came of it. I had no idea what else was going on when I picked him up. The GCPD may have a bit of talent on the force after all.” He took careful note of the names of the two detectives on the case to look into later. Gannon Malloy and Timothy Drake. The men worked out of New Town, so it would be best to avoid that particular borough for the time being. He shouldn’t have gone there anyways; it was too close to where Miranda worked. Everything he was doing was for her, but she was to never know. His soul was stained with darkness long ago and he’d sworn he would return the light to hers. That the man who almost snuffed out his precious girl would be made to pay. 

If only he could find him. In the meantime, he would practice and hone his skills on others equally deserving. The women they’d hurt may not have been _his_ family, but they were someone’s daughter, someone’s wife, someone’s beloved, even if they plied their wares on the streets of Gotham. He should know, he’d treated enough of them in the ER over the years. 

The cat rolled over. 

“I know, I know, I mustn’t gloat. It’s very unbecoming. I’ll be doubly certain I’m more careful next time. You must remember they have to be _found_ so that the world knows what they did. That someone is watching. They won’t be slipping through the cracks anymore.” 

The man closed the newspaper and carefully folded it. Standing up from his armchair, he crossed the living room, went down a short hallway to his home office, and sat down at his desk, a massive oak antique. The room was filled with wall-to-wall bookcases, almost floor to ceiling. He liked books a lot, but not to display like he did his art and other fine collectibles. Books were private. What a person read said a lot about who they were as a person. 

He opened a drawer and carefully disarmed the trap he had in place to remove the false bottom. Taking out a black notebook, he put on a pair of rimless glasses and looked at his notes. Aidan had already provided the name of the next man. He’d been in prison when Miranda was attacked, but that didn’t make him any less of a target with the unprosecuted charges against him. 

The next one would be released from Blackgate in late August unless he did something to extend his prison sentence. Not likely as the man portrayed himself as timid. He knew better. This one was smart if what he was officially in prison for was any indication. He knew what he was doing and who he was hurting. Like his father did to his mother. The man shuddered as the memory washed over him, of the story his mother told him not long after he’d graduated medical school all those years ago. 

He’s always known there was something _different_ about himself. That he had a capacity for violence and a wellspring of _anger_ within that was so very different from his mother, the man he was raised to think of as his father, and his sister. Alicia knew it better than anyone and was often the only person who could keep him from lashing out in a way he knew he’d regret. But he was also _smart_ and learned how to hide it, to channel it into more constructive activities suitable for a young man growing up in an upper middle class family. 

There was a reason he decided to become a surgeon after all. 

But when his mother told him who he really was…well, it suddenly made sense. When he met his father, no, _sperm donor_ , he reacted accordingly. His plan was perfect. And when he was done, there was very little left to the man who was biologically his father. In his studies of the man before he acted, he’d been interested to note the man was as narcissistic as he himself was. 

Genetics were a funny thing. He was glad he’d never had children himself as he was self-aware enough to know this was not something he wanted passed on. Alicia’s children were enough for him, though after Miranda’s attack he’d been dismayed to learn Aidan had taken it upon himself to try and find his sister’s attacker. He’d made a deal with the boy and it was working out to both of their benefits rather well. They’d had to be patient while the boy worked his way up the ranks so that he could easily access the information they needed. 

The con in Blackgate would pay. Just like Whitaker and the others before him. 

He flipped a page in the notebook, a finely manicured finger tracing down the page as the man thought about where the next cleansing would occur. It really depended on where the next felon decided to call home, but the man was nothing if not thorough. He’d mapped out and explored all sorts of unsavory but private places across all of Gotham. 

Until then, he’d watch and wait. He put the notebook away and set the false bottom back in place, rearming his trap. Looking at the clock, the man stood up, putting away his glasses in the chest pocket of his dress shirt. 

He had consultations to get to. After all, a surgeon’s work was never done.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did start this story with Whitaker's POV if you recall. Seemed appropriate to bring in his killer at this point.


	11. Interlude Two - Happy Birthday Tim!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the promised second interlude this week! For those old-school Robin fans out there, here's some Dana and Jack Drake!

Tim and Jason rode up the elevator to his parents townhouse. He fidgeted, a bit nervous about what was going to happen tonight.

Next to him, Jason leaned into Tim. “Stop it. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I know,” Tim shook his head. “I’m just worried about how Dad’s going to react when I introduce you as my boyfriend.”

“You said Dana’ll be cool with it?”

“Yeah. She’s a lot younger than Dad. More open minded too.”

“Well, then there’re three of us against him. He doesn’t stand a chance.” Jason smiled crookedly, almost a smirk.

“Assuming they haven’t gone and pulled a surprise party on me, yeah.” His dad had done that when Tim turned 16. He’d completely forgotten about his birthday that year and came home from the library to see Stephanie, his friends Ives and Bernard, as well as Darla. Stephanie and Darla kept giving each other the stink-eye the entire night, but played nice.

“Yeah, Dick tried to pull that on Damian last year. I went just so I could watch the little ninja freak out. Luckily, all the guests were trained in some way or other, so the broken bones were kept at a minimum.”

Tim laughed as the elevator door opened. “But there were still some?”

“Yeah, Dick’s nose for one. Kid busted it up good,” Jason drawled as they stepped off the elevator.

“I got the invite, but couldn’t make it because of a case I got assigned. Sounds like it was quite the event.” He headed down the hall, Jason trailing after him. Tim idly wondered what would have happened if he had managed to go. For starters, he’d have met Jason again a lot sooner.

“It was entertaining. Alfie made the best cake that night too. I know all of his deserts are amazing, but that one was really awesome. Some lemon, lavender, blueberry mix. Christ, it was good.”

Since they started dating, Tim learned Jason actually had a rather refined food palette. He loved street vendors and greasy food with the best of them, but could just as quickly wax poetic over some morsel he’d seen or smelled. He hated spending a lot of money on fine dining, preferring to try and make things himself.

Tim became a willing taste-tester.

Approaching the door to his parents townhouse, Tim paused and looked at Jason. “You ready?”

“You’re the one who’s nervous. I’m just here to look pretty.”

Tim snorted a laugh as he knocked.

Dana quickly opened it. “Tim! Happy birthday!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a French braid. “How’ve you been, sweetie?”

“I’ve been good. Busy, but good.” He hugged her just as tightly. It had been weird having a much younger woman as his stepmom there for a while, but Tim always respected Dana. She was tough as nails and didn’t let anyone push her around. She'd been part of his life for so long now, it was hard to think of life without her. He missed his mom, he really did, especially on days like this, but he couldn't imagine his life without Dana in it either.

“We saw you on the news a couple weeks ago…” Dana trailed off as she saw Jason standing behind Tim. “Oh my god, Jason! I didn’t know you and Tim were friends.” She let go of Tim to pull the larger man into a hug, which Jason awkwardly returned.

“We’ve known each other for several years,” he replied vaguely. “Didn’t really start hanging out until recently though.”

“That’s great! Welcome! Come in, come in,” Dana shooed both men into the living room.

“Surprise! Happy birthday Tim!” Tim started shaking his head as several people started jumping out of various hiding places. So much for coming out and telling his parents about him and Jason.

Stephanie and Dick were walking towards him wearing ridiculous party hats and large grins. Damian also sported a party hat, but was scowling fiercely. From the kitchen, Tim could see his dad and Alfred wearing more simple hats. Even Bruce had one on, though he looked about ready to tear it off like his youngest son. To his right, he spotted Babs wheeling her way over, a bright smile on her face. Only Cassandra was missing, but that wasn’t unusual as she spent most of her time in Hong Kong these days.

Thank god Malloy wasn’t here. He’d spill the beans in the heartbeat.

“You all suck,” Tim said as he was engulfed in a hug from Dick. The man was a damned octopus.

“I believe the correct thing to say is ‘Thank you, everyone’!” Dick chastised Tim. “Hey, Jay!” he crowed. “Good job in getting Timmy here in one piece!"

Tim quickly turned and glared accusingly at Jason. “You knew?”

Jason held his hands up placatingly. “I did make sure your partner wasn’t invited. Didn’t think you’d like that.” Unspoken was the reason why.

A number of retorts went through Tim’s mind, but none of them were appropriate for the current company. _He’s banished to the love seat in my office._ He settled for a “We’ll talk later,” before he let himself be swept away by Dick.

Jack Drake quickly crossed the room and gave Tim a hug. “Hey there, sport! Happy birthday! We saw you on the news a couple weeks ago. What a story! That was some great work you did there.” His face was animated, obviously very proud of his son despite the dangerous work he did.

“Yes, it was quite the story,” Bruce chimed in from behind the two men. “I’m just glad to hear that creep Sinclair is behind bars.” He wasn’t quite in Brucie mode, but he wasn’t fully himself either. Jack and Bruce had known each other for years, so Bruce felt a bit more comfortable not being completely vapid around the older man.

Tim turned to look at Bruce. “Thanks, Bruce. We couldn’t have done it without your and Steph’s help.”

Jack’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really? I sense a story here. Come on, sit, sit. I want to hear all about it.”

Shaking his head as he sat on the sofa next to his dad, Tim replied, “No, you really don’t actually. There’s some parts of it I want to completely purge from my brain.”

Babs wheeled her way over. “I completely understand that sentiment,” she said wryly. “Happy birthday, Tim.” She held out her arms. Tim leaned forward and clasped the red haired woman tightly. Of course she would understand. Barbara had an eidetic memory just like him.

“Thanks, Babs. How’ve you been?”

“Well enough. Anytime you get tired of solving murders, you let me know. I’ve always got room for a new partner.” Publicly, Babs ran a cyber security and data recovery firm. It was fascinating work and Tim used to work part-time for her when he was in high school. He also knew it was an invite to work with her more clandestine work with the Bats and her Birds.

“I’ll keep it in mind. I’m not quite ready to pension myself off yet.”

From his perch in the armchair, Damian snorted. “You’re wasting your breath, Gordon. Drake won’t quit. He’s too stubborn.”

“Thanks, Damian.” Tim gave the teenager a wry look. It was obvious he didn’t want to be here any more than Tim did. “Nice hat.”

The young man shot a withering look at Dick. “Grayson says it’s tradition for a surprise party to wear such a hat. I remember several people wearing them at my party last year.”

Tim chuckled. “I hate to break it to you, but they’re optional. Dick just likes them.”

Damian’s face turned into a thundercloud as he twisted around to look at Dick, who wisely started backing away to hide behind Barbara. “You will pay for this, Grayson,” he snarled.

From behind the sofa, Stephanie started giggling. “Oh to be 16 again and angry at everything in the world. C’mon, D, settle down. We’re all wearing them and looking just as ridiculous as you.” She leaned over to give Tim a hug. “Happy birthday, Tim.”

“Thanks,” he replied, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I thought angry was the demon brat’s default mode,” Jason chimed in. He reached over the back of the sofa to stick a party hat on Tim’s head, deftly placing the elastic band under Tim’s chin. A colorful hat was already on his head. “There, now we all look retarded.”

“Language, Master Jason,” said Alfred as he walked into the room carrying a tray of party snacks to place on the coffee table in front of Tim. “Happy birthday, Master Tim.”

“Thanks, Alfred.” Tim never took his eyes from the food on the tray. They were all his favorites. “Did you do all the cooking?”

“Of course,” the dignified butler said as he pulled a small plate from _somewhere_ and handed it to Tim. “You know very well I cannot abide those pre-made and frozen appetizers that are so popular these days. I’ve made all of your favorites, as well as the cake. This tray is yours; there are a few more in the kitchen if Master Dick and Master Jason would be so kind as to fetch them?”

It wasn’t a request and everyone knew it. Dick and Jason trotted off to the kitchen to retrieve the other trays.

As Tim settled in with his treats, he smiled, taking in the sight of his family. His large and insane family. This was the part that he always enjoyed, when everyone was together and happy. He felt like he was part of a bigger whole.

It was a shame the same didn’t hold true when day turned to night. Tim mentally shook himself. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. He spotted Jason good naturedly shoving Dick as the two men entered the room, the acrobat quickly recovering even with two large trays carefully balanced in each hand.

Now was the time for family. And for plotting his revenge on Jason.

***** 

Several hours and what felt like several pounds of food later, Tim stood in his shower, letting the warm water sooth his tense shoulders. The party, despite the surprise factor of it, had been fun. The only thing he was disappointed about was that he didn’t get to talk to his parents about his relationship with Jason. With the rest of Batfamily there, it was easier to keep silent.

Jason was on his best behavior the entire afternoon, meaning he kept his usual cursing to a minimum, mostly due to Alfred’s presence. He avoided Bruce, but Bruce seemed happy to see Jason there at all. The others interacted with the man like nothing was wrong, but Tim saw everyone keeping a close eye on him.

It made him feel sad that Jason’s own family didn’t trust him to keep his shit together in front of Tim’s parents. He was a part of the family, but not. Kind of like Tim, floating around on the periphery, though he had a legal right to the name Wayne if he wanted to use it. This was why he wanted to introduce Jason to his parents as his boyfriend. To give him another perspective of what a family was really like.

Tim knew eventually they’d have to come out to everyone (though he suspected Babs already knew, the woman was scary good like that) and it made him nervous, more so than he felt with his own dad. On the surface, everyone would be happy for them, but Tim knew they both would be seeing more random appearances by Jason’s siblings, ostensibly to hang out, but in reality to keep watch on the two of them together and protect them.

He was positive he’d be chewing out everyone sooner rather than later. Except for Damian. That was the great thing about Damian’s age. He didn’t give a shit about anything unless it directly impacted him.

To allay any suspicions, Jason left the party with Dick and Barbara. He sent Tim a text saying he’d be over later. Brave man, considering Tim fully intended to rip him a new one for playing him the fool earlier.

The water was starting to cool down, so Tim turned it off and reached for his towel. Drying off, he stepped into his bedroom.

Only to stop at the sight of Jason sprawled face down on his bed. Without a shirt on. The bedside lamp was off; the only light came from the bathroom lights. In the dim light, Tim could see the broad expanse of Jason’s back, rippled with muscle his fingers suddenly ached to touch. The man’s jeans rode low across his hips without the usual leather belt he wore, one knee bent and pulled up revealing a bare foot while the other leg was straight, foot hanging off the edge of the bed.

Tim wrapped the towel around his waist and approached the bed. “Jay?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“Murmph,” was Jason’s reply. Unsurprising considering the man’s face was buried in a pillow. Tim wondered how the man was able to breathe.

“I see,” he commented, amusement lacing his voice. “Food coma? Or did Dick drag you to his apartment and give you that crap he calls beer?”

Jason flopped an arm vaguely and groaned. He rolled over a bit to face Tim and squinted sleepily. “I was actually asleep. You took fuckin’ forever in the shower.”

“It’s my apartment, I can take however long I want in there.”

He walked to his dresser, about to open a drawer when Jason said “Don’t. C’mere.”

Tim turned to look at Jason and felt his heart start beating faster. Jason had moved so he was sitting at the edge of the bed, knees spread apart. His thighs strained in the soft denim of his jeans. Tim couldn’t take his eyes off the man’s abs and the thin trail of hair that disappeared into the waistband of the briefs he could just see peeking above the snap on the jeans.

The man smirked and made a beckoning gesture. “I said c’mere, birthday boy.”

Tim stumbled his way over, feeling like a gawky colt on suddenly unsteady legs. As he stepped into the space between Jason’s knees, Jason settled his hands on either side of Tim’s waist, fingertips brushing the skin just above his towel.

This close to Jason, Tim could see the network of scars crisscrossing the man’s chest and arms. Most looked old, though a few still had a sheen to them indicating they were more recent. The Red Hood still wasn’t quite back to fighting form, so Tim knew they were from before his fight with Black Mask.

A ghost of a smile teased the edges of Jason’s lips as he looked up at Tim, the blue of his eyes almost swallowed by his dark pupils in the low light. “I haven’t given you your birthday gift yet,” he said teasingly.

“What is it?” Tim asked, his voice a bit unsteady. He was afraid to blink, not wanting to miss a moment of the sight in front of him. His hands itched for camera equipment he hadn’t used in years.

“Birthday blow job. I think it’s finally time, don’t you?”

Tim gulped, then nodded quickly. He reached for his towel, but Jason didn’t move his hands.

“Nuh-uh. Let me.” Jason pulled Tim in closer, his warm lips against the sensitive skin of Tim’s torso. He shifted slightly, bending a bit so that he could work his way down, placing feather light kisses as he went.

Tim gasped at the sensation, feeling his cock starting to harden as Jason’s tongue laved around his bellybutton and further down along the trail of dark hair disappearing into the top of the towel. The man started moving his hands, fingers spreading to knead at Tim’s slender waist and down to his hips. Even through the towel, Tim felt each touch burn into his skin. He reached out and draped his arms across Jason’s broad shoulders, leaning into him more as he tried to remain standing.

Jason pulled back, looking up at Tim. His lips had a bit of a shine to them. “Time to switch it up,” was all he said before he quickly pulled the towel away. Tim suddenly found himself laying flat on the bed, legs hanging over the sides.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Tim saw Jason kneeling on the floor in front of him. He ran his hands slowly up the shorter man’s legs, gently parting his knees as he worked his way up the soft skin of Tim’s inner thighs. He leaned in and started placing the same light kisses on the sensitive skin, working his way closer and closer to Tim’s cock.

Tim realized he was breathing heavily. He could _feel_ his heart racing. Yes, he’d had blowjobs before, but never one like this. Very soon, it would be _Jason’s_ mouth wrapped around his dick. He twitched at the thought, drawing a smirk from the older man that Tim could feel against his skin.

“Patience, stalker,” Jason said, lips pressing a bit harder at the junction of Tim’s thighs. He was kissing and touching everywhere but where Tim wanted him to most. “I want to do this right.”

“I want your mouth,” Tim gasped. “On me. Everywhere.”

“It will be.” Jason moved to the other thigh, lips firmer against the taut skin. He rose up on his knees to kiss the quivering skin of Tim’s belly.

“Jason,” moaned Tim, closing his eyes, then quickly opening them again, watching Jason work his way down again.

The man shot Tim a devilish smile, flashing teeth. He tongued the tip of Tim’s weeping cock and opened his mouth wider to swallow him down.

Tim felt like starbursts were going off all throughout his body. Every nerve was on fire, all the earlier sensations culminating in this one moment. Jason’s mouth was warm and wet and dear God, did he know how to use his tongue, licking the slit at the tip of his cock and pressing right below the head on the sensitive nerves.

He fought the urge to thrust, not sure just how far Jason could take him. Jason must have felt the aborted motion as he pulled off with a slight _pop_. “I can take it. Go ahead, Tim. Fuck my mouth.” He took Tim’s cock in his mouth again, taking him in further, creating suction as he hollowed out his cheeks.

Groaning at the sensation, Tim pushed himself up higher on the bed with his arms braced behind him to get a better angle. As tempting as it was to lay back and close his eyes, he didn’t want to miss a _second_. He hit the back of Jason’s throat and felt it flutter around him, then relax. The bigger man squeezed Tim’s hips, signaling he was ready.

Tim started thrusting, lightly at first to gauge Jason’s reactions, then harder when the man somehow took him in even further. The man was moaning too, the vibrations in his throat pushing Tim to his breaking point.

“I’m…coming,” he gasped out, welcoming the familiar clench in his gut as he tightened up.

Jason squeezed Tim’s hips harder, fingers digging in so hard there would be bruises later.

Tim came with a shout, harder than he ever thought possible, spilling down the back of Jason’s throat. Jason swallowed, the sensation causing a secondary shudder as he milked Tim dry.

He pulled back, Tim’s spent cock slipping from his mouth. Tim fell back on the bed, closing his eyes finally and feeling like he’d just run a marathon. He felt the bed shift next to him as Jason settled in. Opening his eyes, he saw Jason propped up on one arm looking down at him. His lips were full and bruised and _shiny_. He reached out, a finger gently tracing Jason’s mouth.

Jason brushed a light kiss against Tim’s questing finger. “I take it you enjoyed yourself?” he asked, smirking proudly. His voice was hoarse.

“Uh-huh,” Tim replied intelligently. He wasn’t firing on all cylinders yet and didn’t care.

“Good.”

Tim scooted closer to Jason, reaching up to pull the man down into a messy kiss. He could taste his own come in Jason’s mouth. It made him shiver, pressing himself up against Jason so tightly there was no space left between them. Jason wrapped a strong arm across Tim’s back, holding him close. He felt the bulge in Jason’s jeans, his cock hard and straining against Tim’s thigh.

Reaching down, Tim traced the outline through his jeans. Jason pulled back with a gasp. “Not expecting you to return the favor tonight, Tim. This is your birthday.”

“Hmm,” Tim smiled into Jason’s neck, tonguing at Jason’s fluttering pulse. “It is my birthday. So that means I get to decide what I want to do.” Pulling back, Tim grinned. “Strip,” he commanded.

Jason rolled onto his back and quickly unsnapped his jeans and carefully slid the zipper down, moaning a bit as he did so. He flashed a cocky grin in Tim’s direction as he hooked his fingers at the waist of the jeans and started pulling them and his boxer briefs off, raising his hips as he did so. Tim stared, entranced at the play of muscle and _skin_ , so much skin. He reached out to touch Jason’s thighs, tracing a line up, then down with his fingertips.

“See something you like?” Tim didn’t need to look at Jason to see the smirk on his face.

“Very much,” he replied. Sliding down the bed, Tim straddled one of Jason’s massive thighs, the feeling of the older man’s warm skin against his groin causing him to moan softly.

Tim shifted a bit, grinding into the thigh below him. Jason propped himself up on his elbows, watching and waiting. His cock twitched impatiently. Reaching out, Tim grasped Jason’s length in his hand and gave a firm stroke.

“Tell me what you like,” he ordered.

***** 

Tim cuddled up close to Jason, enjoying the feel of skin on skin contact. The bigger man was snoring softly, laying as he was on Tim’s pillows. He’d come apart within a few minutes of telling Tim what got him off.

The feel of another man’s cock in his hand was odd, but Tim adapted quickly, using the same firm grip he employed on himself. Jason had particularly liked watching Tim lick his fingers clean afterwards, pulling Tim down across his broad chest to taste himself on Tim’s tongue.

They both fell asleep soon after, but Tim didn’t stay asleep for very long. He was too keyed up still.

He sighed contentedly, glancing up at Jason’s profile in the dim light. His hair was a tousled mess and the white streak shone prominently against the black hair. If Tim dared to rub a hand against his face, he’d feel the stubble of the beard Jason could easily grow if he didn’t shave everyday. He kept his hands to himself, knowing Jason was a very light sleeper at the best of times. Though he did seem to let himself relax his guard some around Tim.

Tim smiled sleepily. A birthday blowjob was something he could get used to and more than made up for the surprise party from earlier. He fell back to sleep wondering how he could return the favor next month for Jason’s birthday.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 starts next Friday! Tim and Malloy get assigned a new homicide with the victim having been killed in a very familiar way...


	12. Prologue - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Part Two starts now!

Prologue - Part Two 

_Several weeks later…  
_

A balding heavy-set man in a pair of wire framed glasses walked down the dark streets of the Bowery. He wore an old pinstripe suit that had seen better days but when looked at closely, a person could tell it was of surprisingly high quality. The man and the suit looked out of place on these streets. 

But appearances were deceiving and the man walked with purpose. Now that he was out of prison, he was free to offer his not so inconsiderable skills to the highest bidder. His appointment earlier this clear evening went well and he was confident he'd be employed again soon. After all, he had a reputation that players in the Gotham underworld would appreciate come tax time. 

A favor here, a favor there. He had connections, but it never hurt to broaden one’s interests, especially after being locked away for so long. The prison library kept him abreast of changes in tax law (a regular _Shawshank Redemption_ kind of guy he was to the guards), but he needed to familiarize himself with the new crowd running things in Gotham. This Red Hood character concerned him, but he wasn’t exactly the kind of guy to attract his kind of attention. 

For now, he walked, heading back to the dump of a halfway house he called home. His parole officer was supposed to be calling in to check up on him soon. 

He walked past a parked moving van, taking idle notice of the almost cartoonish image on the side. 

He should have been paying more attention. 

A jab to his neck with _something_ and the world went black.

***** 

When the man awoke, it was slowly. He felt groggy and it was hard to focus on anything aside from the dingy light bulb casting a faint light above him. Then he realized his glasses were missing. Beneath him, he felt a cold metal frame digging into his body. He was sitting up at an angle, but his head was tilted back and he watched the light bulb swing slowly in the air. 

He realized he was restrained. And missing his clothes. He started struggling, adrenaline coursing through his veins to chase away the remaining grogginess. He remembered the jab to his neck. Opening his mouth, he found he couldn't, that there was tape over it as well. His struggles increased and he tried rocking from side to side. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice came from behind him. "The fall might be a bit jarring." 

The man stopped moving. Twisting his head to the side, he could make out the metal frame of whatever it was he was laying on. 

"It was more of a struggle to get you up there than I anticipated. I knew you were a large man but still, it did put us a bit behind schedule." The voice was calm, almost like it was discussing the weather rather than hoisting a 250-pound man onto a metal gurney and taping him down. “Not by much, but I hate being rushed when there isn’t a life on the line. I do like to keep my private and work lives separate.” 

The man tried to follow the voice as it moved around him. It was hard to tell without his glasses but it looked like he was lying in the center of a circle of light. It was dark all around the periphery. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a muffled shout. 

"He speaks!" The voice cried out mockingly. "Not enjoying being tied down are you? Makes you feel helpless. Weak. Uncertain of whatever is coming next but knowing it's not going to be good?" 

The voice came closer as the other man spoke, approaching the back of the gurney. It whispered down from just outside of the bound man's vision. "Just like the women you raped. You escaped justice once, but not this time." 

The chilling tone sent a shiver down the man's spine. From the corner of his eye, he saw the flash of something metal, something _sharp_. 

It took a long time for the man to die.

 


	13. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shout out to the wonderful GoAwayOlivia for taking over as the official beta reader for this massive fic (technically since chapter six or seven, but now I'm making it official). Any and all errors are my own.

Chapter Nine - Day One (Early afternoon), Part 2 _  
_

Tim hung up his phone, staring at it blankly. It wasn’t unusual to be called in early to work, but it was exceptionally rare to be called in on his day off. Those were few and far between as the police department was constantly understaffed and overworked. The higher ups knew how precious a day off was and only called people in if something major was happening, like a gang war or an Arkham breakout. 

“What is it?” Jason asked. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the front of Tim’s love seat in the office with a game controller in one hand and a water bottle in another. He’d paused the game he was playing when Tim’s cell rang. 

It was one of those rare and beautiful afternoons where Tim was lounging around reading an actual book instead of case files. He glared at his phone as the news settled in. He felt annoyed that his peaceful day was being interrupted. They were _precious_ dammit. “I have to go to _work_. Apparently there’s something over in the Bowery that Captain Mendoza is insisting Malloy and I have to see immediately.” Tim’s phone pinged a couple of times as some text messages came in. 

“I take it that’s the address?” Jason rested his head all the way back on the sofa to look up at Tim. His black hair fell back revealing the white streak in sharper detail. 

“Yeah,” he replied, tapping quickly at his phone in response. He ignored the urge to run his fingers through Jason’s hair, though his fingers itched to do so. “And Malloy. He’s on his way to the precinct and wants me to drive. Doesn’t want to endanger his precious baby again.” 

Jason laughed, his voice a deep rumble. “I told him already, he needs a better security system. If he can find one that takes me more than two minutes to crack, he’ll be good.” 

“I hope you didn’t tell him that part,” Tim muttered as he got up from his sprawled position on the small sofa. 

“Of course I did. He knows I’m a reforming _something_. At least a car thief is mild compared to the other things I could be reforming from.” 

Tim snorted, choking back a laugh. “So very true. Has he managed to fish a last name from you yet? I know he’s dying to try and pull up your records to see exactly what you’ve been up to.” He walked out of the room, knowing Jason would follow. 

“Not yet,” the big man replied as they walked into Tim’s bedroom so he could get dressed. “I think he’d really freak out if you told him you were dating Jason Todd Wayne.” 

A couple of years ago, Jason had reconciled enough with Bruce that they legally brought him back to life. They managed to keep it very quiet for a time, then some enterprising reporter found the court records and wrote a sensational story. For a time, Jason was a media darling, though the only interview he sat through with Bruce was with Clark Kent. At the time, Tim privately thought Clark was the only man on the planet brave enough to sit in the same room as the two men. 

Of course, a few months later, Jason and Bruce had a massive fight (again) and Jason stormed out of the Manor. From what Tim heard from Barbara, he hadn’t been back until his prolonged stay after breaking his leg. 

“Does Jason Todd Wayne have a criminal record?” Tim asked as he pulled a pair of jeans from a drawer and started putting them on over his dark blue boxers. 

“Don’t think so,” Jason said as he grabbed a white dress shirt and a red striped tie from the closet for Tim. “At least not as an adult. Would he have access to my juvie records?” 

“Those are sealed and require a court order to release them.” 

“Then the only way to find me in the system is to search under John Doe and look for a DNA sample. Though I’m certain Babs has cleaned out those records by now.” Jason tossed the clothes next to where Tim was sitting on his bed putting on a pair of socks. 

He was referring to the time Dick locked him up in Arkham. Tim never understood why Dick thought that was a good idea. The place was a breeding crowd for crazy and locking Jason up in a cell a few doors down from the man who killed him made _perfect_ sense. When Tim returned to Gotham from his leave of absence to search for Bruce with Stephanie and found out about it, he told Dick that in no uncertain terms and made him transfer Jason to Blackgate instead. It had been a massive fight between the two of them, practically icing on the cake as far as Tim was concerned for how his relationships were going with the Bats at the time. The only person who seemed happy to see him storm out of the Manor was Damian. He was safely ensconced in the police academy by the time Bruce made it home and only spoke with Alfred and Barbara for a couple years after that. 

Jason lasted a whole month in Blackgate before escaping, but Tim thought it only took him so long because he needed a few weeks to get all the drugs out of his system from Arkham. He idly wondered if Jason knew that had been him; that the Robin who never was came to his rescue. He mentally shrugged. If it came up, it came up. He wasn’t going to dredge up the past to stir the pot. 

Pulling on the dress shirt over his undershirt, Tim made quick work of the buttons and started tying his tie. “There, I look presentable enough?” he asked Jason. 

Jason closed the distance between them and gave Tim a hug. “I think you could be wearing high heels and a dress and they wouldn’t care as long as you got your ass to where it needs to go.” 

Laughing, Tim kissed Jason, a brief brush of lips. “I’ve no idea when I’ll be home, so don’t wait up.” 

“No worries, stalker. I’ll still make dinner, and if you’re not back by 7, I’ll put it in the fridge for you.” 

“Still going to stay the night?” Tim asked as they walked into the living room. He started putting on his shoes. 

Jason shrugged his massive shoulders and crossed his arms loosely across his chest. His white t-shirt stretched a bit at the movement. “Yeah, but if I get bored, I’ll go out for a bit. I heard a rumor about something last night I want to check out.” A week before Jason’s birthday, Dana finally declared Jason to be done with PT. He celebrated by rampaging through Crime Alley and parts of the Bowery, putting the fear of the Red Hood back into the hearts of criminals and other evildoers. Tim didn’t see Jason for three days, just the occasional text letting him know he was still alive. 

His irregulars were full of stories about Red Hood’s return though. Incredible stories that made Tim’s blood freeze if even one quarter of what they were saying was the truth. No murders could be pinned on him, but the level of ferocity was something that hadn’t been seen from the man in years. Tim knew when Jason hit the streets again that he was going to rain holy hell on those who thought he was gone for good, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but he’d held out some small hope that he’d hold back at least a bit considering their relationship. 

On the third night, when Jason came crawling in through his living room window with a knife wound along his ribs, Tim was about ready to snap. He cleaned and stitched Jason’s wound, then proceeded to tear into him. It was their first real argument and Jason left in a flurry of harsh words and Tim’s shouts. 

Afterwards, Tim lay huddled in bed clutching a pillow and cursing to himself. He’d known going into this relationship exactly who and what Jason was, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was seeing Jason as the Red Hood again for the first time. The violence was certainly there, but when Tim had a chance to think more rationally after calming down, he realized the anger behind Jason’s earlier actions as Red Hood wasn’t. He still felt like he fucked up everything. Telling Malloy he and Jason had a fight garnered a sympathetic ear, but it wasn’t like he could open up about what happened.

It was a full week later before Jason came back on his own, less battered and bruised, to apologize to Tim. They had a good talk, a _real_ one where they didn’t dance around previously unsafe topics. Jason opened up a bit and explained how he was shit at admitting when he was wrong, that he had gone overboard with his return, but only because it felt so damn _good_ to enjoy the freedom that running across the rooftops of Gotham afforded him, not to mention the satisfaction of punching someone in the face. He also admitted that Barbara hacked his helmet and ripped him a new one as well, reminding him while he may not care much for his family, he had someone else now who cared about him and that he cared about just as much. It pretty much confirmed to both of them that she knew about their relationship and seemed to approve if she went to the effort of telling Jason off. 

That night was the first time they had sex. Since Tim’s birthday, they’d been fooling around as often as they could, usually after Tim would come staggering in after a long evening at work. Jason would feed him, shove him in the shower to clean up, and be waiting for him when he came out. Sometimes he joined Tim in the shower. Despite all that, they hadn’t quite made it to full on penetration. Tim would never forget the sight of Jason below him, legs wrapped around Tim’s waist as he slid in and out of Jason’s hard yet pliant body. 

“Anything I need to be concerned about?” It was a legitimate question when one’s boyfriend was the Red Hood. Tim grabbed his wallet and badge from the kitchen counter. He reached for his holster, checking the safety on his gun out of habit. 

“Not sure. It’s more something being out of place than a deal going down. Someone saw something odd and told it to someone else, who told someone else, who told me. Gonna see if I can track down the original person.” 

“Okay. I’ll text you later.” 

“Later, stalker.” 

Leaving the apartment, Tim once again bemoaned the fact his day off had been interrupted by work. 

_This better be good._

***** 

“Any idea what this is about, Rookie?” Malloy took a sip from his latte. It was early September, just after Labor Day weekend. He’d been groaning all week that October needed to get here soon so he could enjoy pumpkin spice lattes again. Tim had a feeling he’d do the same when December came around and wax poetic over peppermint mochas instead. 

The young detective shook his head as he navigated afternoon traffic through the streets of the Bowery. “No more than you do.” 

“Huh. I would have thought you’d heard more from Mendoza, seeing as you were her star pupil at the academy and all.” 

Shooting a glare at his partner, Tim stopped at a traffic light. “I was one of her students. Don’t make it into more than it was, you damned drama queen.” 

“Fine, fine, whatever you say. We both know she’d steal you in a heartbeat and leave me out to dry.” Malloy was teasing, Tim knew he was, but there was an undercurrent of something in the man’s voice. 

“I have no intentions of transferring, you know. Not anytime soon at least.” He tried to sound reassuring. 

“I know. It’s just…it’s hard being your partner sometimes, you know?” Malloy’s voice finally took on the serious note he’d been trying to hide. 

The light changed, but Tim spared a concerned look at his partner before going. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “Did I do something?” He tried to remember anything he may have done recently that could upset the man but came up blank.

Malloy chuckled wryly. “If by something, you mean just being you, then no. You’re the wunderkind, the prodigy every detective dreams of being. Did you know there’s a bet going on around the office about how long it’ll be before you make Sergeant? And Lieutenant?” 

Tim shook his head and sighed. So that was it. Again. “Gannon, you know I’m just doing my job. A job I happen to like despite all the bitching I do about not having a life anymore.” He thought for a moment of his peaceful afternoon with his boyfriend and the book he’d no doubt not touch again for another month at least. 

“I know, which is one of the reasons why I don’t think you’re a robot.” 

“Is the way I work really bothering you? I’m not sure if I can change that, but perhaps if you speak up when I’m doing something…” Tim trailed off. His partner’s words hurt, stinging him in a way he hadn’t felt since his academy days. 

“Don’t you dare fucking change a damn thing,” Malloy waved a stern finger in Tim’s direction, making sure he could see it and still drive. “Black was spouting off yesterday about how I’m the Watson to your Holmes, along for the ride so that the audience knows what the hell is going on in your head. It got to me a bit.” 

That explained a lot, but still Tim replied tentatively, “I love Sherlock Holmes. And Watson’s more than a plot device. He keeps Sherlock from losing himself inside his head. The man may be a genius, but his social skills are crap, whether it’s in the original stories or the TV show. Watson makes him more human.” 

Malloy gazed thoughtfully at Tim as he made a turn down a side street and parked his car. A few buildings down, yellow crime scene tape could be seen. “Okay. I’ll give you that. Thanks, Rookie.” 

“Any time, partner.” 

They got out of the car and started walking. 

“If I’m the Watson to your Holmes, does that make you a high functioning sociopath?” Malloy asked glibly as they made their way towards the crime scene. 

Tim shoved his partner hard, laughing at the reference. “Absolutely not. I do know how to talk to people, you know. How else would I have my little network? I have met one though.” 

“Oh? Do tell.” Malloy was finally grinning, which made Tim feel a lot better. The man had a good poker face, but he wore his heart on his sleeve, much like Dick. 

“Batman.” 

The shocked look on Malloy’s face made Tim laugh all the way to the building entrance.

***** 

The building was another mostly empty warehouse. The trading company that last owned it had gone belly up the year before and most of their assets liquidated in the subsequent bankruptcy. Warehouses weren’t common in the Bowery, but the borough was adjacent to the Sprang River on the south end of it, so there were several close to the Sprang Bridge before the river emptied out into Kane Sound.

This close to the water, the air was at least moving, Tim thought as he stepped out onto the roof and the sea breeze whipped his black hair back and off his forehead, remembering the last time he was up on a warehouse roof in the stifling July sun. The September air was still warm, but lacked the humidity from full summer. The breeze helped, though the glare from the sun on the metal roof made Tim glad to be wearing sunglasses. 

He and Malloy approached the group of people at the far end of the roof, closest to the water below. Tim noticed the Sprang Bridge was almost directly overhead. Captain Mendoza stepped away to greet them, looking smart in her pants suit and what Tim thought were ballet flats. Not that heels were sensible shoes for walking around on a metal rooftop, but the shoes made him chuckle to himself. 

“Detective Malloy, Drake. Thank you for coming. Captain Pierce said it was your day off, but this couldn’t wait.” 

Malloy nodded as they shook hands. “Figure whatever it is has to be pretty important to take you away from your desk and drag us over from New Town.” 

“Oh it is. Follow me.” The short woman turned, her inky black hair trailing down her back in a long, low ponytail. 

Following Mendoza, Tim handed Malloy a pair of gloves from his messenger bag and snapped on a pair of his own. 

They approached the loose circle of Bowery detectives and their CSI team. 

“Oh shit,” Tim whispered almost reverently at the sight in front of him. 

A naked man lay spread-eagled on the rooftop. He was portly, almost obesely so with thinning dark hair and a pug-like nose. His body was covered in knife cuts, his penis sliced to shreds and a gaping red wound where his testicles had been removed. Glancing at the man’s bulging cheeks, Tim knew where they’d be found, just as he knew that when he looked at the slices, they’d be clean and surgically precise, avoiding all major veins and arteries until the last cuts were made across the carotid in the man’s fat neck. 

The man had been killed in the same manner as Roger Whitaker. A case that had been relegated to the cold files. But this…this man’s body shed some light on one very important fact. 

They were dealing with a serial killer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who saw that coming?


	14. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting with this chapter, I seem to have forgotten that chapter lengths were a thing, so be prepared for long chapters going forward.

Chapter Ten – Day One (Late afternoon and evening)

 

“Gerard Davis.” Malloy stood behind Tim, looking over his shoulder at the computer screen. “Recently released from Blackgate for accounting fraud and embezzlement. From the looks of him, he liked to cook more than just the books.” 

“Apparently,” Tim agreed as he scrolled further down the page. “There’re a couple of old sexual assault charges that never stuck, just like with Whitaker, but the dates are much older than I think Whitaker’s were. Davis may have been a creep, but our guy certainly has a type.” 

“You don’t forget shit so I’m sure you’re right,” Malloy said. “God, I can’t fucking believe we’ve got a serial killer on our hands. Where do you want to start?” 

“Do you want to hit Blackgate again and find out more about Davis? I know it’s getting late and traffic is going to suck, but I think I’m going to have more luck combing through the electronic records this time. The assaults are the only obvious link between Whitaker and Davis. But those cuts…I’m positive we’re looking at someone with medical training. Perhaps Davis’ medical records will show something to link him to Whitaker.” 

Malloy nodded. “You do your nerd thing. I’ll call ahead to Blackgate, see if the warden is still there.” He headed over to his desk. 

Tim turned his attention back to the screen in front of him, reading more quickly now that Malloy was gone. 

Davis may have been imprisoned for white-collar crimes, but apparently he had a taste for the seedier side of life as well. There were several old charges for drunk and disorderly conduct and one for solicitation. Of the two sexual assault charges listed, one was dropped due to lack of evidence. The second did make it to court, but the defense attorney did such a good job of discrediting the victim, the judge was forced to declare a mistrial. 

Sometimes Tim really hated defense attorneys. He knew they were just doing their job, most of them at least, but some were in it for the money. Judging by the name of the law firm representing Davis at that particular trial, he had it in spades. He made a note of both victims’ names, as well as the attorney Davis used. 

The only medical information was from Davis’ incarceration at Blackgate. The man had to have his appendix removed after getting appendicitis. He’d been moved to Gotham General for the procedure, then taken back to prison after a day for recovery. 

Whitaker had a surgery too while he was in prison. His gall bladder was removed, also at Gotham General. 

Gotham General. It fit the bill for the medical aspect he was considering. Doctors and nurses would have the necessary medical knowledge to do this. But how would they know about the assaults these two men committed but were never jailed for? Was it just random chance these two men were killed and they both happen to have the same unprosecuted crimes on their rap sheets? Tim shook his head. No, those crimes were the connection. The mangling of the men’s genitals were proof of that. 

Tim sat back in his chair, staring blankly at his screen. Something else was bothering him about these murders and he wasn’t sure what it was. Removing a body from a crime scene took effort and opened a person up to more risk of being discovered. 

Unless…unless the murders really had occurred at the warehouses in question and the scene was cleaned up. The mob angle with Whitaker hadn’t panned out, but that didn’t mean the scene couldn’t have been cleaned up by a professional. Tim made a note to look more closely at Davis’s connections. Just because Whitaker didn’t have mob connections, didn’t mean Davis didn’t, especially when considering what he was jailed for. 

A slice to an artery would cause blood splatter to occur, but if the victim had numerous cuts all over the body and was slowly bleeding out because of those, then the final cuts to the throat wouldn’t have the same effect. There was less blood to pump. The blood was being collected somehow? Or just caught and disposed of? Tim was pretty certain this wasn’t some ritual killing, though the lack of blood in the bodies would point in that direction. There were enough crazies in Gotham who’d get off on collecting blood for the sake of it. 

Malloy sat down on the other side of Tim’s desk with a _thump_ , breaking his train of thought. “I know that look, Rookie. What is it?” 

Tim blinked rapidly, coming back to the present, his thoughts derailed. “I’m not sure yet. I feel like I’m on to something, but it’s just out of reach.” _Goddammit._

“It’ll come to you, it always does.” He started filling Tim in on the results of his call. “Our boy Davis kept pretty much to himself. A few acquaintances, but they’re all still in the joint. Our guy was released two weeks ago after serving five years of a 15-year sentence. I pulled an address from his records; he’s been staying at a halfway house in the Bowery, just a few blocks up from where he was found.” 

“We’ll check that out too.” 

Malloy continued. “I’m glad Mendoza asked us to take over this case. I really want another shot at this guy.” 

“Me too. Now that we have the beginnings of a pattern, we may have more luck with catching the asshole.” Tim glared at his computer. He’d been so close to something. It was practically screaming at him. He liked his partner, he really did, but sometimes working with someone else grated on him. Was five minutes of peace and quite to _think_ too much to ask for? “You going to head over to Blackgate at all then? Sounds like you got enough to get started.” 

“Not until morning. I want to head over to the halfway house and see what I can find there. You want to come?” 

It was tempting. But the conversation he and Malloy had on the way to the scene was still fresh in his mind too. Malloy was so much more than just a Watson. He was a detective too and had been for longer than Tim. “You go. Here, let me print a copy of that sketch we got from Campbell. Perhaps our guy’s been poking around there.” He turned and pulled up a file on the computer, sending it to the printer. 

Malloy stood up and gave Tim a firm look. “No doing anything stupid while I’m gone, you hear? I don’t want to come back to find you took on another street gang.” 

Chuckling, Tim wryly shook his head. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?” It had been a good fight too, thinking back on it. It wasn’t often one could say they went toe to toe with the head of a splinter cell of a Triad gang. 

“Nope.” 

“I’ve got work to do here. There may be a connection through Gotham General I want to look into more. I might head back to the Bowery after dark and talk to some of my irregulars there. I’ve got a few, but not many. Put the word out that I’m looking for someone. I’ll bring more copies of the sketch too.” 

“Nice and safe activities, at least for you. Don’t do anything too stupid then.” With that parting shot, Malloy walked away briskly, stopping at the printer, then leaving the room almost at a run. He seemed much more energetic than he’d been for a while. 

Tim watched his partner go and turned his attention back to his computer and his thoughts. Finally. Thanks to his almost eidetic memory, he was easily able to pick up where he’d left off. 

What would collect that much blood and be easy to move? Something that wouldn’t raise an eyebrow in a semi-busy area of the Bowery where freight was moved and stored at all times of night. Something easy to dispose of, especially that close to the river. 

It hit Tim suddenly. _Plastic sheeting._ It was easily obtainable, easy to move, and in a large enough sheet, could be laid down on the floor and draped from above to catch any splatter. To get rid of it, wrap a few heavy rocks or cement cinderblocks with it and voila, a quick walk down to the dock at the back of the warehouse. Tim, Malloy, Mendoza, the detectives with her, and the CSI team all combed the warehouse below looking for blood, but didn’t find anything. There hadn’t been a crew looking outside since they found nothing in the warehouse. 

They were looking for the wrong thing. And in the wrong place. 

Tim jumped up, grabbing his messenger bag and locking his computer. He was in such a rush, he almost ran into Captain Pierce on his way out. 

“Woah there, Drake. Where’re you headed off to in such a hurry?” He’d been debriefed by Mendoza, then Malloy and Tim earlier when they arrived back at the station after being called in. 

“I’m heading back to the warehouse. I think the murders are occurring at the same place the bodies were dumped. They’re just being so well cleaned up we’re missing them.” 

Pierce let out a low whistle. “Okay, but you boys went over that entire place with a fine toothed comb earlier. What makes you think you missed something?” 

Tim doubted it was that good of a search, especially in light of his new theory, but kept his mouth shut. “It’s not that we’re missing something. It’s that we’re not looking at it the right way. What do you think of when you see abandoned warehouse?” 

“Rats. Spiders. Dust and cobwebs. Broken boxes.” 

“Right. And if I’m correct, there’ll be a spot that’s perfectly clean. Hopefully we didn’t muck it up too bad and I’ll be able to find it.” 

“Shit,” Pierce swore, running a leathery hand through his white hair. “Get going. And don’t do anything stupid!” he shouted after Tim as he ran from the room. 

_I am never going to live that down._

*****  

The light was weak in the warehouse, even with all the overhead lights on. Tim was determined to find _something_ out of place. He wasn’t overly concerned about being alone in a big empty warehouse. Mendoza had posted officers to guard the building until their investigation was complete, so he wasn’t completely by himself. 

It was still kind of eerie, the dim lighting creating pools of shadows. He felt like he was walking from one pocket of light to the next, little islands in an otherwise dark sea. 

There were footprints everywhere from their previous walk-through of the building. His idea of a clean patch seemed more and more farfetched as he delved further into the large room, sweeping his strong flashlight in wide arcs as he walked. After almost half an hour of careful pacing, Tim found what he was looking for. 

The clean zone was about a 15x15 area in the back of the warehouse. The floor was almost pristine compared to the rest of the building. Looking up, Tim noticed the open space was under a raised platform for the office, the metal framework easily accessible for someone who wanted to create an enclosed space. At the center of the overhead ceiling hung a dingy light bulb, flickering weakly, but providing just enough light to supplement Tim and his flashlight. 

The illuminated area was only about 10 feet across. Tim carefully started walking the perimeter. As he did, he noticed a set of footprints and what looked like narrow tire tracks entering the clean space from another direction. Apparently whoever had searched this part of the warehouse earlier hadn’t been as thorough as they said they were. 

Tim turned off the light and put it in his bag, taking out a ruler to lay next to the prints. Crouching, he snapped a few pictures with his phone. The prints almost glowed in the flash. 

“Is real detective work always this boring and dusty?” a haughty voice asked from behind Tim. 

The police detective didn’t even startle. “Yep,” he replied. “There’s more to an investigation than just beating the shit out of the bad guys at the end. You should know this, your dad’s a master detective after all, Robin.” 

“ _Ttt_ ,” came Damian’s signature response. “He is the greatest detective in the world. Perhaps if you were around more often, his methods would rub off and you wouldn’t have a serial killer on your hands.” 

Tim bristled at the words, but didn’t take them too seriously. Damian had massive daddy and superiority complexes after all and passive aggressive comments were the norm for him. He didn’t have time for this. “Why are you here, Robin?” he asked in a tired voice. He moved his ruler to the tire tracks and took some more pictures. 

“Father has…implied…that a good detective seeks out other successful members of the profession so as to continuously improve their skills.” The statement was delivered flatly. Damian was peeved about something and Tim was pretty sure he knew why. 

“Did he send you to ask me if I need assistance?” 

A scowl appeared on Robin’s face. “He sent me to _be_ your assistant.” 

Tim quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “That’s different. Care to elaborate?” 

“As you pointed out upon my arrival, there is more to detective work than beating the _shit_ out of the bad guys. Father believes my skills in this area are…lacking. He suggested I follow you until this particular case is solved and learn some of your methods.” The young man looked like he swallowed a bitter pill. It had to gall him to admit to a shortcoming, particularly one Batman pointed out. 

Sighing, Tim stood up. Damian may not have realized it yet, but the detective was being played by Bruce’s _request_ as well. He didn’t need Batman’s assistance, even if it was by proxy through Robin. “Fine. But just for tonight since I don’t have my partner with me. Any other random appearances by Robin with him around is bound to raise some questions I really don’t want to answer.” 

Robin nodded. “Fair enough. I shall inform Father as well.” 

“May I assume you’re up to speed on the Davis murder?” 

Another nod. “Father also briefed me again on the Whitaker murder.” 

“Good. So here’s why we’re looking at a spotless space in an otherwise dusty and dirty warehouse…” Tim explained his idea from earlier. 

“So what we’re looking at is where you believe the murder occurred.” Damian looked around, a thoughtful expression on his still young looking face. “And now you’re trying to find some form of evidence linking this spot to your theory.”

“Right. I found footprints and what I think is a dolly or a wagon heading towards here. I would assume there’s a set leaving here too.” Tim resumed his search, Robin taking the opposite side. 

“Over here,” he said, waving a gauntleted arm. “The dust is disturbed, but a few feet out from your open space is another set of tracks. They appear to be the same shoe, though the tread seems less sharp than the entry prints.” 

Tim came over and crouched next to the young man, pulling out his phone and ruler again. “They are less sharp. The dust is thicker here, look where the ridges formed from the tread in the shoes,” he points with his ruler. “It’s fallen, kind of like an avalanche.” 

“I have studied enough footprints in my life to understand the concept. I’m not a complete novice.”

“My mistake.” Tim snapped a few pictures of the prints, as well as the tire tread. Why did Bruce stick Damian on him _now_? “God, I wish I had a casting kit in my bag for the shoe prints. I’m going to have to call Mendoza and have her send CSI back out.” 

“Incompetent fools if they missed this the first time.” The disdain in Damian’s voice was crystal clear. 

“Agreed. I had another part of the warehouse I did my walk-through earlier. Should have taken the whole thing, but Malloy was eager to get back to the station and run the prints.” Tim shook his head as he stood and walked back to the clean space. No point regretting it now. He dug a tape measure out of his bag, handing one end to Damian to hold while he paced the inside edge. 

“Why do you work with such fools?” Damian asked in a questioning tone. “Father considers you one of the best detectives on the entire force, in spite of your current lack of success in solving the Whitaker murder.” 

Tim shook his head again as he typed the measurement into his phone and gestured for Damian to switch corners. He knew already the space would be square, but needed to be thorough. “I _like_ where I’m at and who I work with, for the most part. Will that change in the future? Probably. But I’m not bored yet.” 

“You could be so much more if you didn’t restrain yourself to these rules and strictures.” 

Tim glanced over at Robin. It was an odd remark, especially coming from _Damian._ “Is this some version of a recruitment speech? If so, I passed once not too long ago if you may recall. The rules are there for a _reason._ To operate outside those rules means taking the law into your own hands and that’s not justice. And before you even say anything, I’m well aware of what I did back in March. I still question that decision every day, but I don’t regret it.” 

“I am aware of your self doubts. I simply think you would live up to your potential if you were to work with us more often.” Damian tolerated him at the best of times, never hesitating to remind Tim that he _wasn’t_ a part of the Wayne family. What was he after? 

“I’m a cop, Robin. I can’t work with you guys, not openly and not on the down low. Assistance every now and again is fine, almost all of you have cultivated some kind of working relationship with a member of the police force. But no one knows who you are. _I do_. And that’s why I can’t. It puts everything at risk, all of your hard work, your identities, everything.” 

“No one would know." 

Closing the tape measure with a snap, Tim faced Robin. “No one would know? I’d know. And that’s enough. Besides, it’s not like you to try and include me in the _family business_. You tolerate me, barely, because of my history with your family and because I helped Stephanie find your dad.” 

"Grandfather once said you would be a force to be reckoned with if you were to live up to your potential. From what I have observed over the years, I would have to reluctantly agree with his assessment." 

There was a tact Tim didn’t see coming as he felt his jaw open in shock. Ra's al'Ghul thought Tim was a force to be reckoned with? His surprise quickly turned to dread. Was that why he kept sending periodic ninja attacks after him? To test him? And here he thought it was because of Damian or Stephanie. Stephanie had taken on the League of Assassins in their search for Bruce. Tim barely managed to save her life during an attack, keeping her from bleeding out, though she did lose her spleen in the process. 

“Why are you bringing this up now?” 

“Because I struggle to understand you, Drake.” Damian sounded a bit frustrated. “I know everyone’s place in our little family, but yours is still unclear. You are a part of it, but not, much like Todd. You have the trust of Batman and full access to all of his technology if you but choose to do so, but you hold back. I see why Father and Grandfather find you fascinating.” 

Now really was not the time to spring this on him. “Robin, I want to continue this discussion, but I’ve got a limited amount of time before my partner comes looking me. We need to finish up here.” 

Robin nods firmly. "To be continued then. You have your measurements, what next?" 

Shaking his head in amusement, Tim looked up. "I know you've read crime scene procedural manuals, so I should be asking you that question. For the moment though, what do you think of that light bulb?" 

Robin looked up. "It's dusty and covered in grime. Pennyworth would have a fit if he saw it." 

"He sure would,” Tim agreed. “But assuming the murder did occur right here, it's entirely possible there could be blood splatter up on the ceiling or on the bulb. Most of the cuts on Davis and Whitaker were shallow, but designed to cause them to bleed out slowly. The carotids were also sliced. Assuming the victims were on some sort of raised platform, there could be something up there." 

Nodding, Robin pulled a light out of his utility belt. "My UV light is of better quality than yours. I shall boost you up." 

Now Tim was certain the world was ending as he watched Damian lace his fingers together and brace himself. _This is going to go down as one of the strangest days of my entire life._

He quickly took a pair of gloves out of his messenger bag and put them on, setting his bag down in the process. He then took the proffered light and the boost up. Robin lifted him smoothly, like it was no effort for the teenager at all to raise a 140-pound man straight up in the air. Tim braced himself on Robin’s shoulder briefly, then cautiously placed a foot there as he was lifted even higher. The ceiling was barely a foot over his head now. He felt Robin shift a bit, adjusting his balance and keeping a tight grip on Tim’s calves. “I’m good if you are,” Tim said as he turned on the UV light. 

“ _Ttt._ I am fine. Just be quick about it. I am not a ladder.” 

“Duly noted,” Tim replied as he waved the light around the guttering bulb. Under the violet light, he saw a splash of _something_ shining a bright white. “There’s something here,” he said, reaching up and twisting the bulb carefully out of the socket. 

Making sure his grip on the bulb was secure, Tim glanced down at Robin. “I’m just going to step off your shoulders if that’s all right. Not enough clearance for a flip.” 

“Fine.” Damian gracefully sank to his knees as Tim hopped lightly from his shoulders, avoiding the cloak pooled around the young man. 

Immediately going to his bag, Tim pulled out an evidence bag, placed the bulb in it, and sealed it. He took off his gloves and took out his phone to enter more notes. “Thanks, D.” 

“You are welcome.” Never let it be said Alfred’s constant drilling of manners into Damian hadn’t stuck. “You will have results much faster if we take this back to the Cave and test it there.” 

The Batcave. With a forensics lab that made the GCPD lab look like a middle school chemistry lab. Tim could have an answer back _tonight_ if he gave the bulb to Robin. He pointedly ignored the _we_ aspect of Damian’s statement. _He_ would not be going to the Batcave, though it was times like this that made Tim regret having ever made that statement about not going back so long as he wore a policeman’s badge. 

But if he did give the bulb to Damian, then how would he explain the missing piece of evidence when it suddenly reappeared the next night at the GCPD lab? Tim’s own reputation was shooting him in the foot as he was known for being thorough. Almost too thorough. Malloy said it was a rookie trait, but they both knew it was Tim’s practically OCD method of working a case. 

Closing his eyes, Tim took a deep breath and let it out. “As tempting as that is, I’ll leave it with the CSI team when I call them in. Thanks for the offer though.” 

Robin shook his head. “I believe I said something earlier about not living up to your potential. I’m amending the statement to include not using all your available resources as well.” The haughty tone had a disdainful edge to it, one Tim often was on the receiving end of in the early days of his relationship with Damian when the boy thought Tim was acting the fool. 

“It’s an important piece of evidence, but it really only proves my theory correct if that is Davis’ blood on the bulb. If it’s not, then I still have circumstantial evidence here to support it.” 

“Fine. I take it we will now be following the tracks?” 

“Yes.” Tim pointed at the tracks leading away from the clean square. “Follow those as far as they go. The freight elevator is that way, so you may lose them from where we mucked things up earlier.” He turned to the other set of prints and pulled out his flashlight again, handing Damian back his UV light. 

“You have an annoying habit of stating the obvious, Drake.” 

“You said you were here to learn my methods. If Malloy were here, he’d be doing the same thing. Suck it up and be careful of leaving your own prints.” 

Robin started muttering under his breath in a language Tim didn’t quite recognize as he stalked away.

*****  

Tim stood on the dock at the back of the warehouse, staring down into the dark water of the Sprang River. Following his earlier hunch, he’d turned on his UV light and found a faint blood trail going down the cement quay. In the dark, it was hard to tell if an effort had been made to clean up the splatter, but Tim dutifully took his pictures to document each step of the way. 

“You think the plastic sheeting is down there.” Robin stood off to the side, hidden in the shadows of the large mooring posts on the dock. 

“I do.” 

“You will need a dive team to retrieve it.” 

“I know.” 

“You know my opinion on this matter.” 

“I do, so spare me the lecture about not using all my resources.” 

Robin sighed loudly, making sure Tim heard it. “Father provides evidence to Gordon all the time. What if I were to make the dive, right now, and bring up the sheeting? You could say you found it snagged on one of the moorings and dragged it up.” 

Tim turned to stare flatly at Damian. “You have no idea what’s down there besides the sheets. It’s too dark to be making a dive like this alone.” 

A smirk appeared on Damian’s face. “So you are thinking about it.” 

Glaring at the young man, Tim ran a hand through his hair, huffing in frustration. “God help me, I am. Our own team wouldn’t be able to do anything until daylight and by then, everything may be gone, if it already isn’t. Maybe we’ll be lucky and find a trapped pocket of blood. Maybe we won’t be and it’s all washed away. The Sprang is a tidal river...” He let out a loud sigh of his own, glaring up at the Sprang Bridge that was almost directly overhead. 

“Is that a yes?” 

Tim glanced at the water lapping gently at the edge of the dock. It was calm tonight, the moon just a day past being full. It would be easy to lie about how he found the plastic sheeting, if it was indeed still down there. Lying came easily to Tim; he’d been doing it all his life, though there were some people he tried to never lie to. Alfred. Babs. Jason. Funny how his parents weren’t on the list. He shoved the thought away. 

“Yes,” Tim said slowly, feeling like the word was being dragged from him. 

Behind him, Robin started speaking into the comm he wore. 

Tim ground his teeth in frustration. He may be okay with accepting help from the Bats in the form of backup when going into questionable places, but this was the first time he’d willingly done so to seek out a physical piece of evidence for a case. It galled him but he understood why. It’s the same desperation that drove him to seek out the Red Hood. There was a vicious killer on the streets that needed to be captured. The victims may not be kids this time, but no one deserved to be tortured and mutilated like this. 

Closing his eyes, Tim counted to ten and took a few deep breaths. Damian was right, though Tim would never admit to him. It was time he took advantage of all the resources available to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week, Tim goes swimming, Malloy yells at him, Mendoza gives a lecture, and Jason's the little voice of temptation. 
> 
> Happy New Year!! :D


	15. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven - Night One (Late Night) 

The glare Malloy employed against Tim had little effect on the shorter man. He’d been exposed to the Batglare for the better part of a year when Bruce was at his worst; he was _immune_. 

They were standing outside the back of the warehouse, almost on the dock, and out of the way of the CSI team Tim called in an hour ago. Captain Mendoza had not been happy when Tim called and woke her up to learn her team had been cutting corners earlier. She’d marched in with them and watched with an eagle eye as they combed the area Tim identified. The docks were lit up with spotlights to find each drop of blood. 

At the end of the dock, bunched up on the pier was a large piece of plastic sheeting. Bunched as it was, there were still smears and pockets of blood gathered in the twisted folds. 

The dive had been successful. Within thirty minutes of Robin’s call, Batman, Nightwing, and Batgirl arrived with all the necessary diving equipment, some of which Tim didn’t even recognize, SCUBA certified though he was. They even brought a wetsuit and gear for him. 

He accepted it from Batgirl, surprise evident on his face. “I didn’t think I’d be diving with you.” 

A brilliant smile appeared on Stephanie. “Of course you are. This is your case. We’re here to help you, not take over.” 

Both of them shot a pointed look over at Batman. He ignored them both, kneeling on the edge of the quay and holding a UV light of his own over the speckles of blood. 

Time was of the essence, so Tim quickly changed, ignoring the quiet catcalls Dick and Steph sent him as he stripped down. “Nice ass, ex-boyfriend.” 

“You live with the epitome of nice asses, BG. I hardly think mine is in the same playing field.” 

“Come on, Timmy! Give yourself some credit. If Steph says you have a nice ass, then you have a nice ass. She’d know.” Nightwing slapped Tim lightly across the shoulders as the detective pulled the wetsuit hood up and tucked his hair into it. 

“Says the man who’s spent most of his life in spandex.” 

“What can I say? I’m a performer at heart.” 

“More like an exhibitionist.” 

Within minutes, Batman, Robin, Nightwing, and Tim were in the water, Batgirl staying above to keep watch. The water was cold, colder than Tim expected, but the wet suit quickly did its job. Ducking under the water was a shock to the system though, even braced as he was. He’d never been night diving before, so he was glad of the powerful flashlights the Bats had brought with them. They swam in pairs, carefully working their way around the end of the dock and further out. 

Tim swam with Batman, the bigger man letting Tim take the lead as they shone their lights across the bottom of the river. The water was murky this close to the sound, the constant push and pull from the tides keeping things stirred up. Tim was glad of the calm night; he wasn’t sure he’d have made the dive at all if the currents were strong in the changing tides. 

A few minutes of careful searching was all it took to find the sheeting Tim was looking for. In the harsh lights of the flashlight he and Batman carried, he could clearly see dark splotches of what Tim knew was blood. The bundle of plastic was too small to be all of what Tim suspected had been used, but this piece was twisted up tightly around a cinderblock. 

“We found it,” Tim said. The breathing apparatus he and the other Bats wore had built in comm devices, the receiver tucked into an ear for responses. 

“Copy that, Detective,” came Nightwing’s voice. “We’re on our way.” 

Tim and Batman both swam around the twisted plastic, carefully analyzing the best way to move it without losing its precious cargo. “If we grab the plastic here and here,” Batman gestured with his hands, “and take a hold of it here,” he pointed below the block where a piece of plastic stuck out, “we can shift the block and untangle it.” 

“You’ve done more underwater recovery than I have, I’ll leave this up to you.” In the dark, it was hard to tell, but Tim thought he saw Batman nod approvingly. 

Upon the arrival of Nightwing and Robin, the four men made quick work of recovering the large piece of plastic and bringing it to the surface. Batgirl helped drag it up on the dock, carefully grasping the sheet where Batman instructed so as to not lose the blood contained within. 

Tim could tell Batman was itching to get his hands on the sheet to take a sample and run his own tests, even though they all knew the blood belonged to Davis. He decided to toss Batman a bone, and when he had his diving fins off, he walked over to his messenger bag and took out the light bulb he’d retrieved earlier. 

“Here,” Tim said, handing the evidence bag to Batman and ignoring the smirk on Robin’s face. “This is the bulb that lit up the murder scene. I’m pretty sure that’s blood on it, but perhaps you could take a look for me?” 

Batman accepted it. “I will,” he said gravely. “But why now? You’ve never asked for help before, Tim.” 

Tim shot a pointed glance at Robin. “I was reminded earlier that I have resources available to me that are far superior to what I’m used to. It was also pointed out that I’m being stubborn.” 

A ghost of a smile appeared on Batman’s lips briefly, then disappeared. “We’re all stubborn.” 

Huffing a brief laugh, Tim agreed. “Yeah. We are.” 

While Tim dried off and changed back into his clothes, the Bats quickly and efficiently packed away their gear. Before disappearing into the night so Tim could call Mendoza, Batgirl wrapped Tim in a brief hug. “Thanks for letting us help,” she whispered, flashing another smile that used to make him melt when she was Robin. 

It didn’t take very long for the Bowery captain to arrive with her CSI team. Tim used the time to call his partner, who had just arrived home from his own excursion to the Bowery. He wasn’t pleased hearing that his partner’s plans for the evening had changed. And that he hadn’t been called to join him. 

“We talked about this, _Tim_ ,” Malloy hissed, keeping his voice low so Mendoza wouldn’t hear. “We’re a team. You had a hunch, you played it. But you do _not_ do this kind of shit without at least _telling me_ what you’re doing and where you’re going.” 

“I already said I’m sorry,” Tim replied, just as quietly. He knew he was going to get another ass-chewing from his partner when he called him, but it wasn’t exactly like he could tell him he’d been working with Robin for most of the evening, then went diving in the Sprang with the rest of his family. “The uniforms Mendoza assigned knew I was here. I checked in with them before I even went inside. Captain Pierce knew where I was too.” 

“That’s not the point and you know it.” 

“Is this still about what Black said yesterday? I thought you were over it.” 

“I went out and essentially did your grunt work while you found the mother lode. The more I think about it, the more Black makes sense.” 

Tim shot a dirty look at Malloy. “And now you sound like an idiot if you think that asshole is making sense. I did not find the mother lode as you put it. I found where the nutless sack of shit up on the roof died and found the evidence to tie him to the scene. We still have _no clue_ who did it.” 

“I’m starting to feel like you use that pronoun when it suits your needs.” 

“Goddammit, Gannon, what do you want me to say? I told you earlier I can’t change the way I think. I can’t just turn it off at the flip of the switch.” 

“What your partner is trying to tell you, Drake, is to stop being so damned impulsive and leaving him out of the loop.” Captain Mendoza turned and shot a pointed look at the young man. Her voice was quiet, but harsh. “Detectives work in pairs for a reason. Detective Malloy has been a cop for over ten years, five of them a detective. He’s got a good head on his shoulders and, from what I’ve seen, is able to put up with your antics surprisingly well. I warned you about this in academy though. You’re smart. Too smart for this work, but you’re good at it. You just don’t play well with others.” 

Tim accepted the dressing down for what it was. He deserved it, every word, but it still stung. 

To his surprise, Malloy stepped up in his defense. “Drake is all that and more, Captain Mendoza, but I wouldn’t say he doesn’t play well with others. It’s more like others just don’t understand the quirks that make up Tim. He’s smarter than hell but he’s got a unique way of seeing things. In the short time we’ve worked together, I’ve learned a lot from him.” 

“And yet he still forgets to call you when something like this happens.” Mendoza gestures to the madhouse around them. 

“I don’t normally do this with other cases,” Tim said quietly. 

“Does he?” The question was directed at Malloy. 

“No, he doesn’t.” Malloy gave Tim an unreadable look, then turned his gaze back to the captain. “He’s actually quite good about keeping me in the loop most of the time. It’s only with cases that really get to him that he pulls this kind of shit.” 

Tim sighed and closed his eyes briefly. God, his partner knew him better than he thought. He didn’t deserve this man. And, Tim decided, opening his eyes and looking at his partner, he was going to make it up to him. 

As soon as they had a private moment. Or three. He had some explaining to do.

*****  

A couple hours later, Tim led Malloy into his apartment. He’d sent a message to Jason warning him that Malloy was there and to use the door if he came back before he sent the all clear. The apartment still smelled faintly of whatever Jason had cooked earlier for dinner. He’d left the kitchen and living room lights on too. 

Tim took his shoes off and headed for the kitchen. “Take a seat anywhere,” he said. “You want something to drink?” 

“That beer you like is fine. Or water.” Malloy’s voice was flat. He was still peeved with Tim, but curiosity was winning out when Tim had asked him to come over to talk. It was a rare occurrence that he was invited over to Tim’s apartment. 

Taking two beer bottles from the fridge, Tim popped the caps and headed back to the living room. His partner was seated on the dark blue sofa, so Tim took the neighboring armchair, handing Malloy one of the bottles as he sat down. They both took a sip. 

Malloy leaned back on the sofa, the lamplight glinting off his light blonde hair. “You said you wanted to talk. So talk.” 

Tim leaned over, arms resting on his knees as he pondered his words. He’d been thinking about this for hours now and still wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Tonight…it didn’t go exactly as I said it did when I called you and Mendoza.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You remember a couple months ago when I said I’ve encountered some of Gotham’s _nightlife_?” 

“You mean the night Red Hood went all informant on us? Yeah…” A look of understanding appeared on Malloy’s face. “One of the vigilantes was in the warehouse with you.” 

Tim nodded, sitting up and taking another sip from his beer. “Yeah. It was Robin.” 

“Not exactly the Bat I was expecting to be looking over a crime scene.” 

“Yeah…that came later. I do my thing, Robin making snide comments about the quality of work the GCPD is doing and I eventually find the blood trail outside. He shuts up when we get to the end of the dock and realize the one piece of evidence we really need is at the bottom of the river.” 

“Wait a second. You said you found that piece snagged on one of the moorings and pulled it in.” Malloy’s sitting up straight now, a strange look on his face.

“Yeah. I had a choice to make. I could call this in and wait until morning when we could get the dive team out or I could accept Robin’s offer to go diving right then and there.” 

“I can see which one you chose.” Malloy sounded a bit accusatory. 

Tim let out a frustrated sigh. “I had to make that choice. We could have lost that one piece of evidence so easily. Robin called Batman and he brought Nightwing and Batgirl with him. When they came up, Nightwing told me the plastic they recovered was likely another couple of tides away from being lost completely like the rest of it.” There was no way in hell Tim was telling Malloy he had dove with the Bats. It would give away too much. 

“So Batman just let you keep the sheet? I’m surprised he didn’t take a piece for himself to test or do whatever he does with evidence.” 

“He said this was our case. And that he’s watching.” 

“Gee, that’s reassuring.” Malloy ran a hand through his mussed hair. He hadn’t taken the time to style it earlier in the day, so it was falling into his eyes. “Wow. Okay. I can see why you didn’t want to say anything with Mendoza around. But you could have shot me a text or something, Tim. I wouldn’t have bitched so much earlier. She’s going to tell the captain about that and I don’t want you getting written up for it again.” 

“At this point, I don’t care.” Tim shook his head tiredly. “You know what happens when the capes make an appearance.” 

“Down to Central it goes. Fuck.” Malloy got up and started pacing restlessly. “We swore two months ago this case was ours. It still is. _We_ are going to find this fucker, not some tight-ass like Marcus Driver.” 

Tim watched the man stalk around his living room. “We good then?” 

“Yeah, we’re good. And I’m going to make sure I do everything I can to convince Pierce of it in case he comes down on you.” 

“I should be okay, he did know where I was going and why. I almost ran over him on my way out of the office.” 

“Still.” Malloy stopped pacing and resumed his seat. He picked up his beer and took a sip, leaning casually against the back of the sofa. “So I have one very important question I need answered.” 

Tim made an open gesture with his hands. “Go for it.” 

The blonde man grinned. “Is Nightwing’s ass as amazing in a wetsuit as it is in spandex?” 

***** 

Tim and Malloy talked a little bit longer about the case. The halfway house appeared to be a dead-end. Davis apparently spent most of his time out and about in the city and only came back to sleep and check in. He’d taken a number of pictures of the small room assigned to the portly man, as well as jotted down notes of anything interesting. Tim could see why he’d been upset earlier, as it really was grunt work.

The blonde detective left after agreeing to meet Tim at the precinct in the morning around 9:00. “I’ll bring coffee,” he said, tossing a smirk at his partner as he walked down the hall. 

“Hazelnut!” Tim called after him before closing the door and locking it. 

Turning around, he startled a bit to see Jason walking out of the bedroom. “How long have you been here?” he asked. 

“Long enough to hear Malloy had a shit night and you apparently had a better one. Heard over the comms that you went diving with some Bats tonight.” Tim nodded and reached out to his boyfriend, pulling him in for a quick hug and kiss. 

“Yup. I’ll tell you all about it after I shower.” 

Jason headed into the kitchen. “Make it quick. I’ll heat up your dinner. I got some news for you too.” 

“Oh?” Tim asked, curiosity lacing his voice. 

“Shower, stalker. You smell like the Sprang.” 

Tim rolled his eyes as he turned away, heading into his bedroom and leaving a trail of clothes behind him. He showered quickly and emerged in a fresh pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Picking up his discarded clothes, he headed into the kitchen where Jason was fussing over a plate. 

Pulling his wallet, keys, and badge from his pockets, Tim tossed everything into the laundry room, noting he needed to do laundry very soon. He set his things on the counter and sat at his small dining table, waiting as Jason finished up with whatever he was doing to his food. 

“Something not heat up well?” 

“No. Some things are not meant to be nuked and this cream sauce is one of them.” Jason sounded frustrated. 

“The salmon with the dill and lemon sauce? I’ve microwaved the leftovers before and they turned out fine.” 

The look Jason shot him was a mix of fond and frustrated. “How is it that the Gotham street rat has better taste in food than his former high society boyfriend?” He stopped fussing over the plate and set it in front of Tim. 

Tim dug in, suddenly starving. After swallowing a few bites, he replied. “It tastes fine to me. Better when it’s fresh, but you know I’ll eat just about anything.” 

“You’re ridiculous, stalker.” Jason walked over to the fridge to pull out his own beer, using his shirt to twist the cap off. He finally admitted to liking Tim’s favorite beer a few weeks ago. They both liked trying different craft beers though, so it was not uncommon to see a new six-pack of _something_ different in the fridge. There was a sticky note on the freezer door about which ones to try next in both of their handwriting, Jason’s bold, sharp, and all caps and Tim’s quick scrawl. 

The more Tim thought about it, there were signs of Jason all over the apartment. At least half the clothes he’d start washing tonight were Jason’s. The man had his own drawer in Tim’s dresser now and he’d cleared a spot for a few things in the closet. There was a second toothbrush in Tim’s bathroom, as well as a shaving razor. He’d taken over the kitchen fully, which was just fine with Tim. He gladly forked over money for the grocery bill. 

Things were surprisingly _domestic_. He liked it, but wondered how it settled with Jason. They’d been together for almost three months now and Tim hadn’t seen any signs of the nervousness that had been there in the beginning. No talk of breaking things either, though it had been close in August when Jason stormed out. 

“Penny for your thoughts, stalker. You’re a million miles away.” Jason’s voice cut through Tim’s thoughts.

“Just…thinking. About us.” Tim covered by taking another bite of his food. 

“Anything I need to be concerned about?” 

Tim huffed a small laugh, smiling almost shyly. “No. I was thinking about all this.” He makes a gesture with his hand, encompassing everything around them. “We’re settling in.” 

Jason chuckled, sprawling in the small chair next to Tim. “You just noticed?” he drawled. “It’s one of the reasons I freaked out and ran away last month.” 

“You never said anything.” 

“I told you before, stalker. I have a tendency to break things. It’s not often I want to _fix things_.” Jason’s voice was calm and easy, but he was watching Tim like a hawk, blue eyes focused on him. 

“I’m glad you did. Or do.” Tim made a frustrated sound as he tried to express himself. “Jay, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to make a relationship work as much as I do ours.” 

A warm hand settled on Tim’s free hand. He’d been drumming his fingers on the table, not even realizing it until Jason stilled them. “I know the feeling,” was all he said, squeezing Tim’s hand tightly for a moment before letting go. “You done?” Jason asked, gesturing to Tim’s now empty plate. 

Tim stared at the plate in surprise. He hadn’t noticed he’d cleaned the plate too. “Yeah.” He got up and took the plate to the sink, rinsing it off. Behind him, he heard Jason get up and, from the corner of his eye, saw him head into the living room. 

Quickly following, he settled into his usual spot in the armchair, Jason taking up most of the space on the sofa as he stretched out. “So what have you got for me?” Tim asked. He’d sent Jason a series of texts earlier telling him about his new case. 

“Remember how I said earlier I was going to check out something odd?” 

Tim nodded. 

“So I tracked it down. Found the source. I heard the most fascinating little story tonight.” Jason liked to drag things out when he knew something no one else did, especially when he knew Tim would really want to know. 

By now, the detective knew it was just easier to play along. “And?” 

“And I ended up in the Bowery tonight, not too from far from a warehouse that was starting to light up like Christmas.” 

“Really?” Tim leaned forward. “Who did you find? Those warehouses are still in use, so we need to wait for a search warrant to come through before we can get in.”

“I found a terrified hobo who told me all about a tall masked man who dragged a dead fat man onto the roof of the warehouse across the way.” 

Tim gasped. “Tell me everything.” He jumped up to get his tablet from his bag, quickly opening his case notes to start typing as Jason continued. 

“The hobo likes high places and apparently was on the roof to look at the moon. Said he used to be an artist before the recession and life started sucking. He was contemplating the meaning of life or some shit when he saw your guy appear on the roof across the way dragging a large sheet of plastic with something wrapped up in it. He lost sight of him for a few minutes on the far side of the roof, then saw him come back with the empty sheet.” Jason took a swig of his beer, before continuing, very obviously relishing his story and dragging it out for Tim. “Curiosity is a strange thing he said as he found himself crawling to the edge of his roof to get a better view of what was going on. Said not long after that, the man came back out with a large metal rolling table and a big bundle of what he thought was more plastic. He pushed the entire thing off the end of the dock.” 

“Oh my god, I knew it. I knew it!” Tim crowed. “Did he see a vehicle? Anything that could be used to describe the man?” 

“Not that he recalls, but he said he’d think on it. I think at that point, he was getting a little freaked out by me.” 

“About what time of night was this?” 

“Late. Pretty sure it was after midnight, but the guy wasn’t too specific. He did point out where the moon was in the sky though.” 

Tim quickly pulled up images of the previous night’s sky from Gotham Observatory. They always had a webcast up that tracked the moon’s path across the Gotham skyline. “Here,” he said, shoving the tablet at Jason. “A general idea would do if you can figure the trajectory and angles.” 

All the Bats could navigate by moon and stars alone. Dick had taught Tim, one fantastic night where they camped out on the massive lawn of Wayne Manor after Tim had told the man he’d never been camping before. 

A few minutes went by with Jason swiping at the screen, pausing the video here and there. Tim thought back to the dive. Had he seen anything resembling a metal table at the bottom of the river? He didn’t, but Nightwing and Robin had been a bit further out from him and Batman. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to both Dick and Damian asking if they’d seen anything. Putting his phone away, Tim waited on Jason. He didn’t expect a response back from either of them right away. 

“Okay,” said Jason finally. “I’m gonna guess between 1am and 2am. The moon disappears into the some clouds around 2:30 and the guy didn’t say anything about clouds in the sky.” 

“That’s fantastic. I’m gonna get traffic cams pulled up, perhaps I can find something. Not a lot of traffic at that time of night. Do you think I can speak with this guy tomorrow? Where exactly is he holed up?” Tim got up and wandered into his office, not waiting for an answer. He was focused again. 

“I told him to expect a visit from a skinny kid claiming to be a GCPD detective.” Jason trailed after Tim, leaning in the doorway while the younger man switched on his monitors and snuck into the GCPD network. “You know…this is the kind of shit Malloy is going to yell at you about in the morning.” 

“Huh?” Tim looked at Jason owlishly. 

“You know. Insane epiphanies in the middle of the night, then running off to hack into the GCPD and city networks to access traffic cameras illegally. For all you claim to be a cop, you sure do think like a Bat.” 

Tim paused, letting Jason’s words wash over him. The older man couldn’t know it but his words resonated with what Damian had said to him earlier. Jason was right, he needed to pull these camera records through legal channels in the morning, not hack into the network tonight to get what he wanted sooner. But he could do it. Do it right now if he wanted to. And God did he want to. 

It was a fine line Tim tread. Most of the time, it was easy. But then a certain kind of case would come along and _wham._ It was like a switch would flip in Tim’s brain and he became more driven and more focused than before. He’d do whatever it took to solve a case. 

Like call the Red Hood. Call Oracle. Call Nightwing. Let Robin assist him. 

Tim stared blankly at the screens in front of him. “Dammit,” he muttered, slamming his keyboard in frustration. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean to call you out on it. I just heard what Malloy said earlier and thought…” Jason trailed off. He didn’t move from his spot in the doorway. 

“No.” Tim shook his head. “No, you’re absolutely right. I’m thinking like Batman when I should be thinking like a cop.” He spun around in his computer chair to face Jason. 

“I don’t know how you do it, stalker. Of all of us, you’ve got your feet evenly planted on both sides of the fence.” Jason shook his head in amazement, a smile dancing across his lips. 

Tim shook his head again. “That’s where you’re mistaken. I’m not one of you. I never have been.” 

Jason snorted. “Yeah fucking right. Just because you never put on a mask and ran around in tights doesn’t make you any less a member of my insane family. What do you think that birthday party was, huh? You think Bruce would go along with something like that for someone just dancing along the edges?” 

“I…God, I don’t know, okay?” The frustration Tim felt was boiling up inside of him. He got up and started pacing. “When I was a kid, I wanted to help so much. I was so close and kept being pushed away each time I thought I finally had a chance. I got sick of it and just stayed away. Then a few years later, Steph and I hooked up and I got a taste of it again through her. I didn’t want to use her that way though and after we found Bruce, I told her I was done. I needed to make a line in the sand about where I stood with the vigilantes. I drew it. Everyone respected my decision.” 

“Then what happened?” At some point Jason had crossed his arms, muscles almost straining against the snug fabric of his gray t-shirt. 

Tim continued pacing. “There was a kid. On my beat. I’d watched him spiral out of control and eventually found him dead in an alley of a heroin overdose. I called Barbara, asked what she knew about the drug trafficking in the area. I knew some, but I didn’t have the network and the respect that I have now to get what I needed then. She helped me dig up enough dirt on the kid’s dealer and his supplier to put them both away for 20 years. That broke the ice. A week later, I got a visit from Nightwing. Then Black Bat about a month after that. Then Batgirl a week later.” 

“I bet that went well.” 

“Cassandra’s visit was to check up on me and make sure I wouldn’t hurt Stephanie again. That woman is the scariest person I’ve ever met in my life.” 

“No arguments there.” 

“So for the next few years, I got periodic check-ins with the Bats. Occasionally, Batman would come and ask me for my thoughts on a case, particularly if I found the body and he wanted to go over the scene with me. But I usually work with Babs the most. It’s…easier than having to see everyone.” 

“When you and I met…as Red Hood and Officer Drake that is, you were talking to a bunch of kids about drugs. Was that around the time you broke the ice?” 

Tim stopped and looked at his boyfriend. He didn’t look uncomfortable at the conversation topic at all. He was genuinely curious. “Yeah. Just before actually. The kid who died was in that group. He was dead a few weeks later.” 

“I’d given you my number already. How come you didn’t sic me on the kid’s dealer? You know my stance on kids and drugs.” 

“That’s a good question. I thought about it. I really did. But I think the answer boils down to that I wasn’t as jaded as I am now. I’ve seen for myself what Batman’s efforts amount to and when I saw Tyler and figured out how much of a pawn he really was, I just didn’t care anymore. The man who could do that to a kid needed to be gone. That’s why I called you.” 

“We’re all tools to be used…” Jason straightened up and walked the few feet to stand in front of Tim, reaching out to grasp the shorter man’s shoulders firmly. “So do it. Cross that line. We’ve got the more fun toys anyway.” 

Tim choked, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You’re joking, right? I can’t join Batman. I’m…I’m willing to pull the trigger. I can’t do what he does.” 

“And that,” Jason leaned in to brush his lips gently on Tim’s temple. “Is why you’re perfect for me. You and I are a lot alike in how we work. You’re just better at computers than I am.” He smirked, the same one Tim had captured so many times when he was Robin. 

A laugh escaped Tim as he took a step forward to close the space between him and Jason and wrapped his arms around the taller man. Rising up a bit on his toes, he settled his chin on Jason’s shoulder as the other man’s arms embraced him. “You are fucking nuts. And I have to be too for even contemplating it.” 

“What’s that nerdy shirt of yours say? ‘Come to the dark side, we have pi.’” 

“It’s the dork side, not dark side.” 

“Whatever. I know I told you when we first started seeing each other that you needed to stay a cop. That you were better than all of us. I still believe that. But, Christ, do you make it difficult to not slap a mask on you and send you out to kick ass.” 

“Is that what you want me to do? Become your partner?” 

“You’re already my partner. I just have to share you with blondie.” 

Tim pulled back a bit to look Jason in the eyes. This close, he could see the ring of green around the outer edge of the iris. The physical mark the Lazarus Pit had left on him. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“You don’t have to do anything. You’re usually balanced, but this case is making you off balance. And that’s why you’re feeling this way.” 

Words sprang up in Tim’s throat, but he swallowed them down. He wanted to say it, wanted to so badly. But Jason was like the bird he pretended he no longer was. The wrong words would send him flying. He leaned in to kiss him instead, putting all the emotion he felt into an action instead. 

Jason gasped into the kiss, clearly not expecting the onslaught from Tim. He responded, grasping Tim about the waist with one arm and placed his palm gently on the back of his head. 

A sudden thought occurred to Tim and he pulled back, grinning. “I just thought of the reason why I can’t be a member of your family.” 

“What? Stalker, I told you…” 

Tim placed a single finger against Jason’s lips to shush him. “If I were a part of your family, that would make me your brother. And brothers don’t do this.” He removed the finger to replace it with his lips. 

Jason laughed into the kiss, breaking it with a gasp. “You are so fucking right. Now come on, it’s late, my leg hurts a bit, and you’ve got a long day tomorrow.” 

Tim let Jason lead him out of the room, before remembering his computer. He ran back to logout of the networks he’d entered earlier and reset his security protocols. 

“Nerd.” It was said fondly. 

“You said I was better at computers than you.” 

“I did. Now come on and I’ll show you something I’m better at.” 

Tim bolted out of his office, almost tripping as he raced past Jason and into _their_ bedroom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting what feels like forever to post this chapter because that means we're almost at Chapter 12, which is one of my absolute favorites of this entire fic. Not sure if I'll be posting it Friday early or Friday late as I'll be traveling next week (I get to see a little something called snow and freeze my ass off in the process).
> 
> Next week: Stephanie yells at Tim. Tim yells at Stephanie. And Jason has a hard time putting on a shirt...


	16. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd post this before I leave for the airport to go home. Otherwise, it'll be super late by the time I get in. Enjoy!

Chapter Twelve – Day Two (Morning)

Tim couldn’t help the sappy smile he wore when he arrived at the precinct the following morning. Jason certainly had shown him something he was better at, had shown him for a good hour before he’d finally let Tim come. 

It was well worth it. 

He tried to suppress it when he spotted Malloy as he walked across the bullpen to his desk, but was too late. The man’s eyebrows rose when he spotted his partner and a smirk appeared on his face. 

As Tim sat down at his desk and booted his computer, Malloy slid into the seat across from him, pushing a tall cup of coffee across the desk. 

“I know that look. That’s the I got laid last night look. Anything you care to share?” Malloy still didn’t have a boyfriend, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. 

“No,” Tim replied primly. He pulled up the networks he’d hacked the night before. 

“Come on,” Malloy almost whined. 

Tim raised an eyebrow. “The things he can do with his tongue would make you weep.” 

“Fuck!” Malloy dragged the word out, leaning back dramatically. “You are so goddamned lucky, I hope you know that.” 

Flashing back to the conversation before the amazing sex, Tim privately agreed. “So I had an idea last night after you left. About the case.” 

Malloy groaned. “You have a one track mind, no wonder Jay tried to distract you last night.” 

“It did work for awhile,” Tim admitted with a small grin. “Focus, Gannon.” He reached for his coffee and took a sip. 

“Okay, okay. This is me focusing.” Malloy sat up straight, crossing his legs and placing his hands over the raised knee. 

Tim rolled his eyes. He’d thought for a while this morning how he was going to introduce the idea of a witness and knew he’d need to hit the streets like he intended to yesterday before he could. 

“So I got to thinking about the tracks we found. Not the footprints, but the thin tire tracks. I thought they were from a dolly but then I got to wondering about _how_ Davis was killed. If he’d been lying on the ground, then the cuts would have been hard to do so precisely. I think he was on a raised, _wheeled_ platform. Like a metal surgical table or a gurney.” 

Malloy followed the train of thought Tim was laying out. “Which means it may have been dumped off the dock too. But something like that needs a rather large van, like a commercial van, or even a small box truck to transport.” 

Tim smiled. He knew his partner would make the connection he needed to start sifting through the traffic cameras. “Which means if we can narrow down the time of death, we can backtrack through the CCTV and traffic cameras to see if we can find anything heading into the warehouse district.” 

“Ugh, that’s going to be hours of traffic footage to watch.” 

“I know, which is why I want to do it. I had another idea yesterday I didn’t get to explore that I thought might be better for you.” 

Malloy narrowed his eyes a bit. “Drake…if you’re taking the grunt work to appease my sensibilities…” 

“I’m not, I swear.” Tim raised his hands up innocently. “I may have found a connection between Whitaker and Davis.” 

“What!” Malloy sat up straight, uncrossing his legs and slamming a hand on Tim’s desk. “Why didn’t you say anything last night?” 

“I forgot, what with everything _else_ that was going on.” 

His partner picked up on the emphasis. “Fine, okay. What is it?” 

“Remember how I said yesterday I may have found a connection through Gotham General? Both Whitaker and Davis had surgeries while in prison. Whitaker had his gall bladder out and Davis his appendix. They were both taken to Gotham General, then were back in the infirmary at Blackgate within 24 hours.” 

“Surgeries…they were sliced to bits. Literally. You want to find out who did their surgeries?” 

“It’s a start. The part I can’t figure out is how this killer knows about their pasts.” 

“Public records only show the cases that were prosecuted. Davis was the only one who went to trial for his sexual assault. Whitaker never did.” Malloy rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 

“Were you still going to head over to Blackgate this morning? I didn’t see the name of the surgeon in the records, but I’m sure it has to be there somewhere. If not there, then at Gotham General.” 

“You’re right, this sounds so much better than combing through traffic cameras. I’m on it!” Malloy said brightly. 

“I see you’re dividing and conquering again, Drake. Didn’t Captain Mendoza have a chat with you about that last night?” Captain Pierce walked up to Tim’s desk, arms crossed against his chest and looking like a father scolding a stubborn child. 

Tim stood up quickly. “Sir, um, yes. Yes, she did.” 

Malloy stood up as well. “Captain, if I may, I was actually out of line last night. I was having a bad day and the warehouse was just the icing on the cake. I thought Tim had gone barreling in without any thought and he didn’t. I may not have known where he was, but you did, and the officers Mendoza assigned knew he was there too.” 

Pierce looked from Malloy to Tim, then back to Malloy. “Okay. So long as you two are good, then I’m good. Back to business then. What do you need from me?” 

The two detectives brought the captain up to speed quickly. “So Drake is going to sit and watch TV and I’m going to go to Blackgate and then to Gotham General on my way back.” 

“Sounds good. Drake, do you think we need to send the dive team out and look for a gurney at the warehouse?” 

Tim bit his lip thoughtfully. He hadn’t heard back from Dick or Damian yet, but that wasn’t unusual considering the time of day, though Damian at least should have texted since he had school early. “Yes,” he said slowly. “A gurney, a metal table, hell, even a kitchen island can have wheels on them these days. It’s just one more thing to tie to the scene.” 

“I’ll call Mendoza then and let her know. Though knowing her, she may already be on it. Detectives, just like with Whitaker and Mitchell, this case is your priority. Everything else is being reassigned.” 

“Thank you, Captain,” Tim and Malloy said together, smiling wryly at each other at the echo. 

“You’re welcome. Now get to work.”

***** 

Two hours later, Tim was feeling restless. The coffee Malloy gave him was long gone and he’d been working on another one from the pot in the break room that tasted like shit. Leaning back in his chair, he tried to keep focused on the monitor with the different cameras running, but even tapping his heel on the floor and playing with his pen was getting him nowhere. He’d solved the five sided Rubik’s cube Dick had given him three times already, which really impressed the office assistant, Sandy, when she’d been walking by. 

He paused the footage and stood up, stretching as he did. Tim knew sitting and doing this would be boring as hell, but dammit, it was something he needed to do. The monotony also gave him a chance to ponder the two cases, looking for other similarities he may have missed the first time. 

Something he’d been wondering about was Whitaker’s murder. The warehouse he’d been found at did not have an easy disposal site so readily at hand, being at least four blocks from the closest body of water, the yacht club that bordered the north end of New Town and Amusement Mile. That was a risk the killer seemed too smart to make, but Tim did make a note to pull up the camera footage there the night Whitaker was murdered. At this point, it seemed a good assumption the man had been killed at the same warehouse he’d been found in. 

His phone buzzed as a text came in. Picking it up from the desk, Tim tapped the screen. 

It was Babs. 

Babs: _That’s a lot of TV you’ve been watching. Need a second set of eyes?_

Tim gaped a moment, then shut his mouth. Barbara was called Oracle for a reason after all. 

Tim: _YES! You’re a goddess and I will totally pay for whatever lunch you deem worthy._

He texted her the details of what he’d been through already, as well as his theory on Whitaker’s murder too. 

Babs: _That sounds promising. If the guy’s using the same vehicle that is._

Tim: _I know, right? It’s so easy to rent a box truck…_

Tim’s mind trailed off before he sent the text. Rental records. Perhaps of a doctor who may have rented two box trucks over the course of a few months? Fingers flying on the screen, Tim completed the text and sent his new idea to Babs. 

Babs: _Oh, good idea. I’ll look. Take a break. Go eat something and drink ANYTHING besides coffee.  
_

Tim chuckled at his phone. He loved Babs, he really did. She was like a big sister to Dick’s big brother act. Neither one was an act really, but it made him feel included. 

Tim: _Yes, mom._

The reply was an emoji of the middle finger, which seemed so much more of a Jason thing than a Babs thing. Shrugging, Tim locked his computer and grabbed his bag. Fresh air and sunshine awaited him. 

As he walked out of the precinct, a car horn honked. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence as the building was on a busy street, but it did it again rather insistently as Tim passed by. A window rolled down on a rather smart looking purple car. 

It was Stephanie, looking fabulous as always and in a big pair of designer sunglasses Tim knew were worth more than his entire outfit, including his shoes. 

“Hey there, handsome! Need a lift?” The shout caught the attention of several officers on their way out for lunch, as well as some detectives Tim worked with during the day. Including Cassius Black. _Crap._

“Hello, gorgeous!” Tim played along, not really having a choice. “I will always take a ride from you, even though I know you’re a shit driver.” He walked around and opened the passenger door, ignoring the peanut gallery on the stairs leading up to the precinct. 

“I’m not a shit driver!” Stephanie squawked indignantly as she rolled up her window and pulled away, not even waiting for Tim to buckle his seatbelt before darting out into traffic. 

Horns blaring behind her, Tim looked at her askance. “Really?” 

“Really. Now hang on. We’re going for lunch.” 

“Figured as much. Babs just kicked me out of the office.”

“I know, we conspired together on that one. You need food. And something not coffee.”

“You’re not the only one to tell me that.” Tim pulled out his phone to send a text to Malloy while Steph drove. He was trying hard to keep his partner in the loop today. The phone buzzed back quickly, Malloy saying he was still at Blackgate. 

He was tempted to text Jason, but thought better of it with Stephanie in the car. 

“Is that Jason you’re texting?” Stephanie asked as she took a wild right turn.

Tim looked over at her in surprise. “No. Malloy. Just checking in.” Why would she be asking about Jason? 

Stephanie looked normal, but her fingers were tapping on the steering wheel, a sure sign that she wanted to say something more. “Hmm…” 

Feeling his guard suddenly come up, Tim asked cautiously. “Is there a reason you’re asking?” 

_Tap. Tap. Tap._ “Just…Okay, I’m not going to beat around the bush with this. How long have you two been…seeing each other?” 

_Oh shit._ Tim wasn’t sure how she knew, but he wasn’t going to make this easy on her. She hadn’t said dating after all. “We started hanging out after he got his cast off, so…June?” 

“ _Tim_.” Her voice held a note of warning to it. She knew he misinterpreted her question on purpose. “I was at your apartment last night. That didn’t sound like _hanging out_ to me.” 

He chose to ignore the second part of her statement for the moment. “What were you doing at my apartment?” 

“I wanted to talk you. We never got a chance to talk after the Sinclair debacle and I didn’t think your birthday was the right time. Apparently last night wasn’t either.” Her voice was gaining a hard edge to it.

“Because talking about our history in the middle of an important investigation is the right time.”

“Well, it was the right time for _something_. I’ve never heard that kind of noise coming from you and we dated for two years. _Two years._ ” She made another turn, this time a left, jerking hard against the wheel. 

“Steph, this isn’t about you,” Tim said defensively. 

“Isn’t it? You couldn’t be Robin, so you went and banged the next one. And now you’re banging the second one. Do I need to be concerned for Dick? Or Damian?” 

“Stop the car.” 

“What? No.” 

“You either the stop the car right now or I am going to punch you. And you know I will.” 

Steph swerved down a side street, then took another quick corner to pull into a quiet street. She parked the car, but didn’t turn off the engine. Her hands clenched the wheel, taking deep breaths to try and calm down. 

Tim was so pissed he was almost seeing red. He took a few deep and slow breaths as well. “Stephanie. I’m only going to say this once more. My relationship with Jason has _nothing_ to do with you. It never has. If you think I am so petty as to date your brother just because he was Robin before you, then you have no idea who I am and never have.” 

“Tim…” Steph started in a small voice. 

“I’m not done yet,” Tim interrupted in a hard voice. “You knew I had a crush on Jason when I was a kid. I remember _talking_ about it with you when we first started dating. I _asked_ if that was going to be an issue. You said it would not. Now here we are, eight years later, and you’re pissed at me for finally having a chance with the guy I’ve always loved. This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with _him._ ” 

When Tim got angry, truly angry, he didn’t shout or rant or rave. He went quiet. Cold. His emotions almost completely disappeared and he’d puncture any argument made with dispassionate logic designed to hurt. 

“I’ve seen how you treat him. How _all_ of you treat him. You call me family, but he’s the one who’s actually legally tied to you. It’s like you’re all waiting for him to explode at the drop of a dime. Even _he_ sees it. Why the hell do you think he doesn’t like going home, huh? Or why we haven’t come out and said anything? Who wants to be somewhere where each step you take and word you speak is analyzed for hidden meanings and threats of death? The Pit rage is gone or as gone as it ever will be with someone who’s been tossed in. All that’s left is Jason trying to make a life in the only way he knows how. He makes me happy and I’m pretty sure I do the same for him.” 

Tim took a deep breath and held it, then let it out slowly through his nose. There, he’d said it. He’d said almost everything he’s been holding back for the last three months. 

When the silence went on, Stephanie picked up that Tim was done. “I…I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking a lot about what we said at the Manor and just wrapped my head around the fact that you wanted to be Robin and Bruce never let you. That being with me was the next best thing and I _know_ it wasn’t like that, but…God, Tim. I loved you, you know that? When you left for police academy and shut me out, I just about lost it. Dick had taken Robin away and I was just…lost. And then you were the only one who believed me when I thought Bruce was alive and…” she sighed, taking a deep and gasping breath. 

“You saved me. You went with me and you saved my life and you _believed_ me. I thought, perhaps, with a bit of time and space, that we could make it work again. It was dumb and I totally realized later we were over romantically, but when I saw you enter Bruce’s study looking all smart and sexy and _confident_ , I couldn’t help but wonder if I was wrong. But you were already _hanging out_ with Jason at that point, weren’t you?” Stephanie laughed bitterly. 

Looking over at Tim, she continued. “Last night, I wanted to talk. About…everything. I snuck in through your living room window and…well,” She shook her head, a small smile gracing her face. “I sure as hell didn’t want to see what my older brother was doing to my ex-boyfriend to make him scream like that.” 

Tim huffed a small laugh. The worst was over and they both knew it. “Yeah, I didn’t know I could scream like that either.” 

They both chuckled weakly. 

“I just have one question, Tim. One I really need answered and I swear I will leave you alone.” Stephanie looked at him earnestly, her big blue eyes red from tears she’s been fighting. Somewhere along the way, she’d ditched her sunglasses and Tim hadn’t even noticed. 

Tim didn’t say anything, but made a go ahead gesture with his hand. 

“Did you…you loved me for me, right? Not because of anything else?” 

Tim smiled and reached across the center console to grasp Stephanie’s hand. “I’ve never stopped loving you. It’s just changed into something else.” 

The tears started falling. Tim pulled on Steph’s hand, pulling her close enough to wrap into a hug. “I love you too,” she choked, clasping Tim tightly. 

For a moment, Tim let the feeling of Stephanie in his arms take him away to a simpler time, to when they were both in high school and fumbling around awkwardly in the darkness of Tim’s bedroom, the bright and beautiful Robin sneaking in on a break from her patrol. Hard body armor over soft flesh, still curvy despite the firm muscle beneath it all. Quiet gasps and muffled giggles. The scent of Stephanie’s floral shampoo that Bruce could never quite get her to stop using, the tang of sweat on skin, and the warm dampness of her curls beneath his questing fingers. 

Tim squeezed her tightly one last time and let go. 

Still sniffling, Steph sat back in the driver’s seat, then reached into the console for a pack of tissues. “God, I must look like a mess,” she muttered. 

“You’re totaling rocking the raccoon eyes.” 

Stephanie snorted, then blew her nose hard. “My purse is in the backseat. I’m going to need to fix my face before we can get lunch. If you still want to get lunch that is…” she looked at Tim uncertainly. 

“We are,” he said with a nod. “Let’s make it easy though and stop by a food truck, then go to the park. Or my apartment. It’s close by and I know I’ve got sandwich fixings. I managed to go grocery shopping before the shit hit the fan yesterday.” 

“Your apartment is fine. Unless you don’t think Jason’ll want me there.” 

“It’s my apartment and you’re Jason’s sister. Besides, now that the cat’s out of the bag, I don’t think it really matters anymore.” 

“I won’t say word to anyone. I promise.” 

“Thank you. Now let’s go; emotionally charged arguments always make me hungry.”

*****  

Tim sent Jason a text while Stephanie drove to his apartment, checking to see if he was there and to let him know Steph knew about the two of them. He didn’t get a reply by the time she parked, so he was pretty certain Jason wasn’t there. Or he was sound asleep. 

“I’ve no idea if Jason’s here or not,” he said as they went up the elevator. Steph had put her sunglasses back on to hide her eyes. Tim thought she looked rather silly wearing them in the dim lighting of the elevator. 

“If he is, then I get to apologize to him too,” she said matter of factly. “You’re so right about how we all treat him. He and I were not on the best of terms when he first came back but it’s been all right since I became Batgirl. Not the best, but we can work together. Better than he does with Dick or Damian at least.” 

Stepping off the elevator, they made the short trip down the hall to Tim’s apartment. He pulled out his phone to check the security system app Babs helped him design and saw the perimeter system was armed. A few taps and it was disarmed. He unlocked the door with his key. 

Before he opened it all the way, Tim stuck his head in. Jason had a habit of falling asleep on the sofa in all sorts of clothing optional ways and wanted to give him a chance to put something on if he was. The living room was clear, so he opened the door all the way. “Come in,” he said. 

Taking off his shoes, Tim spotted Jason’s sneakers and his heavy motorcycle boots in their usual spot. “Jason’s here somewhere, unless he has another pair of shoes around I don’t know about.” 

“I’ll stick to the kitchen. TBA still your favorite?” 

“You know it. There’s bacon in the fridge that’s already cooked.” 

“I’ll find it. You go find your boyfriend. And no sex noises!” she called after Tim as he went down his small hallway to the bedroom. 

Knowing better than to open his bedroom door slowly and quietly, Tim opened it normally. He and Steph had made enough noise coming in that unless Jason was completely dead to the world, he’d be awake already. Sure enough, he was sitting on the edge of the bed trying to put a shirt on. Backwards from the looks of it.

“Hey,” Tim said, entering the room and closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” came Jason’s voice from somewhere in the shirt. 

“Stop that before you tear it,” Tim chided, taking the shirt away and straightening it out. 

“Who’s here with you? I thought I heard Steph.” Jason still sounded sleepy. 

“Didn’t check your phone yet, huh?” He handed the shirt back to Jason. 

He put it on the right way this time. “No…I heard you come in and talking to someone. If Steph’s here, I can just go out the window.” 

“It’s broad daylight, so no, you’re not. Also, she knows. About us.” 

Jason blinked quickly, processing what Tim just said. “What the fuck? How?” He sounded much more alert now. 

“Apparently she stopped by last night. Wanted to talk. And saw something she really wants to unsee.” 

“Fuck!” Jason ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. He fell back against the mattress, draping an arm over his face. 

“You’re being dramatic,” Tim deadpanned. 

“What the hell else am I supposed to be when I find out my little sister saw me fucking her ex-boyfriend last night?” 

“It was actually this morning, and she’s okay with it now. At least I think she is. She promised not to say anything to anyone after we got done screaming at each other.” 

“Screaming, huh?” 

“Yeah. You remember what I told you last time I talked about her? About how she thought I was with her because she was Robin?” 

“Yeah. Oh.” The light bulb finally went off for Jason as he sat up. “She confront you about that finally?” 

“Yep. We hashed it out.” 

“Fists?” 

“She was driving. I made her pull over and threatened to punch her.” 

“Nice. See, I told you ya didn’t need me to defend your scrawny ass.” Jason reached out to Tim and held him close for a moment. 

“I didn’t hear you complaining about my ass last night.” 

“This morning,” Jason corrected him.

***** 

Lunch was weird for Tim, although he decided it was weird because it was weird for Stephanie and Jason. The two of them barely spoke at first, but then Tim started talking about the case and the gurney, then the box truck rental idea he’d had just before he left and passed on to Babs. 

Casework broke the ice. Solving crime was what the Bats did and both of them chimed in with their own thoughts and opinions on the case. Stephanie boggled at what Jason had found last night, almost jumping up and down in her chair at the kitchen table in excitement. She’d apparently taken a minute to wash her face while Tim was getting Jason as her mascara smears were almost gone. 

Tim sat back and took a bite of his sandwich, watching the two of them interact. From the way they were talking, one would think it was their case instead of his. But in a way, he supposed, it was. At this point, every member of the Batfamily had contributed in some way to try and catch this killer. He was okay with that. It didn’t sting like it had the night before with Damian. 

“So, I can’t help but wonder about this guy,” Stephanie said around a mouthful of bacon, lettuce, and tomato Tim didn’t know he had. Jason must have snuck it in the last time he made dinner. “I mean, he’s in medicine, right? I saw the autopsy photos and those are some _clean_ cuts. I wonder where he got the practice?” 

It was a completely innocent question, but it made Tim sit up straight and stare at the blonde woman in awe. “That’s it,” he almost whispered as he got up and ran to his office. He missed the concerned looks Jason and Stephanie shared before they got up to follow. 

“That’s what, stalker?” Jason asked from his usual perch in the doorway. 

Steph shoved her way in around Jason’s hip. “Talk to us, nerd wonder.” 

Tim’s fingers danced over the keyboard as he hacked into the GCPD cold case files. “He had to have practiced somewhere. On someone. Or more than one. He’s too exact, too precise. He knows _exactly_ where to cut and _how_ to cut. That kind of precision can’t be learned overnight.” 

“There’re more victims,” Jason said, unfolding himself and stalking over to Tim’s desk, leaning over the chair to get a better look at the screens. 

Behind them, Steph gasped. “Practice victims. Oh shit.” She crowded the remaining open space. 

Tim barely noticed his ex-girlfriend and current boyfriend surrounding him as he scanned the cold cases that came up under the search parameters he’d entered. He flagged one, then another, then a third in quick succession. By the time he reached the end of the list, he’d flagged seven potential cases from the past two years. They’d occurred all over Gotham, from Tricorner all the way up to Amusement Mile. 

“Seven,” Jason said softly, voice laced with amazement. “How the hell did this happen right under our fucking noses?” 

“I don’t know,” Steph replied, shaking her head. “But when B finds out, he’s going to be _pissed_.” 

“He’s not the only one,” Tim said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve got to get back to the station and let Captain Pierce know. Call Malloy and get his ass back up here. Damn, but I hope he had some luck at Blackgate and Gotham General. We need the name of the surgeon who operated on them.” 

“Can’t you hack into Gotham General’s files and find out?” Steph asked. 

“He can, but he won’t.” Jason replied instead of Tim. “Stalker’s gotta play by the rules.” 

“This isn’t Central,” Tim reminded Steph. “I can’t just go to my captain and ask to turn on the Batsignal tonight. If Malloy can’t find the name in their files at Blackgate, it could take a subpoena get it from the hospital, assuming he can’t flirt the information out of someone.” His partner could be very charming to members of all sexes when he wanted to be. 

“You don’t have to.” Jason turned Tim’s chair around until the shorter man was looking up at the brother and sister. “Last night, you told Malloy Robin was at the warehouse with you. That Batman, Batgirl, and Nightwing went diving in the Sprang for you. All you need is for one of us to check up on you tonight when you go chatting up your irregulars and tracking down my witness. We can get you the name tonight if he doesn’t come through.” 

Stephanie nodded emphatically. “Yes! Come on, Tim. We can start looking into those cold cases too.” 

Tim looked back and forth between the two, feeling a bit torn inside. On one hand, he really wanted to look at those cold cases himself, but knew he didn’t have the time. Not yet. On the other hand, involving the Bats the way they were suggesting could send the case down to Central if he and Malloy weren’t careful. Tim had a feeling Captain Pierce and Captain Mendoza had already been talking to Commissioner Gordon about it. But the Davis murder was still his case. His and Malloy’s. If it were going to be moved to Central, it would happen sometime today. 

He needed to get back to the precinct. If there was one thing that would keep the case in his hands, it was the potential clues in the cold cases. He needed to speak with his captain. 

“Steph, take me back to the station. Jason, I’ll see you tonight. I’m gonna need the Red Hood.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta, GoAwayOlivia, had the best reaction when she read this chapter (and I quote): OMG SO AMAZING AND STEPH KNOWS AND JASON BANGED HIS SISTER'S EX-BOYFRIEND, and what do you even say after that??????
> 
> Yeah, I still smile when I read this, which is good, because after the week I've just had, I need all the smiles I can get.
> 
> Next week: SUPER LONG CHAPTER full of good stuff like Tim channeling his inner Janet, a very special guest appearance, some old friends reappearing, actual detective work, and Malloy fanboying over Nightwing (or his ass, Tim can't quite tell). There will also be a second chapter added to Different Points of View after I post this chapter too!


	17. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strap in...longest chapter of this fic coming up.

Chapter Thirteen – Day Two (Afternoon and Evening)

With Steph’s crazy driving, Tim was back at the precinct in minutes. Dashing up the steps, he pushed his way through the crowded building to the Homicide department, almost running across the bullpen to his desk. He’d called Malloy on his way back, explaining his newest leap. His partner had been almost as excited as him and promised to be back soon. He was almost to Gotham General and would do his best to get the name of the surgeon, as it hadn’t been in the files at Blackgate.

Sitting at his desk, Tim logged into his computer again to pull up the cold case files he identified earlier. He started typing furiously, wanting to get his thoughts down before he went to Captain Pierce. On his mad dash across the room, he’d seen the man’s door was closed, which usually signaled he was in a meeting with someone. He kept an eye on the door, planning to ambush the captain as soon as it opened.

As Tim read over the cold cases more thoroughly, there were four in particular that stood out. All involved men who’d been accused of sexual assault but were tried for other crimes. The other common thread was the precision of the cuts that were made to kill them, but there were no indications of mutilation like with Davis and Whitaker. The cuts were what interested Tim the most and he was in the midst of pulling up autopsy photos when someone came up to his desk and coughed to get his attention.

Looking up, Tim saw Captain Mendoza standing there. He scrambled up in surprise. “Hello, Captain.”

She nodded in greeting. “Detective Drake. Where’s Malloy?”

He glanced at the clock on his screen. It had been an hour since he texted Malloy. “Gotham General. He should be back very soon.”

“Good. Come with me.” Tim grabbed his tablet, feeling nervous butterflies fluttering through his stomach. Was this it? Was he being removed from the case at Mendoza’s recommendation after last night? Tim cursed silently as he followed the petite woman across the bullpen to Captain Pierce’s office.

Upon entering the room, Tim’s jaw almost dropped in shock. Sitting in the office with Captain Pierce was Commissioner Jim Gordon.

“Commissioner, this is Detective Tim Drake. Drake, Commissioner James Gordon.” Mendoza introduced the two men, taking her seat in front of Captain Pierce’s desk. There were two additional chairs in the office, presumably for Tim and Malloy when he arrived.

“Commissioner,” Tim said, holding out his hand.

Gordon stood up and shook Tim’s hand firmly. He had a good, solid grip. “Detective Drake. I’ve been hearing your name quite a bit this year.”

“I’m sure it’s been both the good and the bad, sir.” Tim replied diplomatically.

“Isn’t it always? Have a seat, son.” The older man gestured to one of the open chairs and sat back down in his, relaxed in his posture.

Tim sat, trying to channel his mother’s poise and confidence he remembered her using in the face of a challenging situation. He waited, knowing his superiors would get to the point momentarily. Silence was a tactic after all and Tim had been raised by the best.

The commissioner smiled, lips quirking beneath his mustache. “Truly the son of a businessman, detective. Or businesswoman I should say.”

A crooked smile appeared on Tim’s face. “Both, sir. But even Dad admits Mom was the brains of their operation.”

“I remember your parents, Drake. And you from a few of the police balls and charity events for the GCPD when you were just a lad. I was at your mother’s funeral and was glad to see Bruce had taken you under his wing. He may get a lot of bad press, but he knows the pain of losing a parent.” Gordon’s voice was almost fond, but his blue eyes were watching Tim like a hawk, gauging the effect his words had on the young detective.

 _Two can play at this game._ “I owe a lot to Bruce for taking me in when he did. For a while, no one knew if Dad was going to make it. He even talked about adopting me if things got even worse. I’m glad it didn’t come to that though. There are some parts of his lifestyle I wasn’t completely enamored with.”

All the Robins, current, former, and not quite, believed Jim Gordon knew who Batman was. He was too smart of a man and too good of a detective to not figure it out after years of working with the taciturn Bat. Tim was being tested by Gordon to see exactly where his loyalties lay, the old man gauging Tim’s words, as well as his actions, to make his determination. It also didn’t escape Tim’s notice that Captain Pierce and Captain Mendoza were closely watching the exchange as well. Pierce knew his background; Mendoza didn’t and though she was trying to hide it, there was a hint of curiosity on her face.

“The lives of the rich and famous, eh?”

Tim chuckled. “I don’t miss it, if that’s what you’re wondering. I never could stand wearing a tuxedo.”

“Neither do I, son. Neither do I.” Gordon chuckled as well. “I’m trapped in them more often than I like.” The man shifted in his chair, leaning back a bit and crossing his arms. “On to business then. Captain Pierce and Captain Mendoza here have been keeping me apprised of the serial killer we apparently have on our hands. I’m on the fence about moving the case to the MCU and into more experienced hands, but you’ve got me curious, detective. Not even a year with a detective’s shield under your belt and you and your partner have the highest number of solved homicides of any team in the city, MCU included.”

Tim’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t known that particular statistic.

“I see you’re surprised. Good. That’s not a number we make public, so keep it to yourself.”

Tim nodded.

“Now, the reason I’m here is that I want to hear from you about this killer. Not Pierce and Mendoza, not your partner. You. Talk to me. Convince me to leave the case here.”

Glancing over at Captain Pierce, Tim saw him nod ever so slightly. This was his chance. Taking a deep breath, he opened his tablet and scrolled to the top, starting with Whitaker’s murder.

Tim started speaking. By the time he was done, he’d covered almost everything, leaving out only the parts about assistance from Red Hood and the rest of the Bats.

Gordon let out a low whistle. Pierce and Mendoza also looked impressed. He’d made a lot of headway since last night and it showed. “That’s very impressive, son. How’d you come up with the idea to look at cold cases?”

Shaking his head wryly, Tim replied. “It was over lunch. My friend made a comment about needing to practice something and it just clicked.” No need to mention said friend was his ex-girlfriend.

Pierce chuckled. “Friend huh? The rumor mill has been on overdrive since you left earlier with Stephanie Brown-Wayne.”

Tim face-palmed. “Oh my god, seriously? We’re just friends!” he said emphatically.

All three of the older adults in the office laughed at Tim’s reaction. “Drake, sounds like you’ve got a story I want to hear later,” Mendoza said with a smile. “Not everyday I find out one my best students was almost adopted by Bruce Wayne and is still friend’s with his daughter.”

 _And dating his son._ “When this is over, you can ask whatever you want.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Heh, when this is over, I think we’ll all be buying you and Detective Malloy a round or three,” Gordon said as he stretched his legs.

Before he could help it, a hopeful look appeared on Tim’s face. “Does that mean?” he trailed off.

Gordon nodded. “Yes. This case is staying right here and I’m going to allocate some additional resources to you as well. Sounds like you need to hit the streets tonight and work that network of yours. I’ll have two of my best come up from Central to help get started reviewing the cold cases, making it clear to them that you’re the lead detective on this.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “What about Malloy? He’s senior to me.”

Pierce replied for Gordon. “Somehow I doubt he’s going to mind. Everybody knows you defer to him for appearance’s sake already. Him included.”

“Just remember what we talked about last night,” Mendoza chimed in. “He is your partner.”

Tim nodded. “A partner who’s going to be pissed he missed this meeting.”

“Them’s the shakes,” Gordon started to say before he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Pierce got up to look out, then opened it fully to reveal Malloy.

The blonde detective looked surprised to see the company Tim was in, but didn’t let the sight keep the big grin from disappearing on his face. “You won’t believe what I’ve got, Rookie.”

*****

Things moved quickly that afternoon. Gordon spoke with Malloy privately about what he discussed with Tim so as to smooth any ruffled feathers he may have about making Tim the point on the case, but like Pierce predicted, Malloy was fine with it. “He’s the brain when it comes to cases like this. When he gets going, it’s best to step out of the way and remember to feed him every once in a while.”

Tim pulled up all the available information he could find on the _two_ surgeons who had worked on Whitaker and Davis. According to what Malloy informed them of when he arrived, the surgery staff at Gotham General were required to perform a certain number of volunteer service hours each quarter. It was up to them how they did it, but emergency surgeries coming out of Blackgate were included in the service hours. They were quite popular in fact and the chief of surgery, one Martin Schumacher, regularly maintained a list of volunteers for when the next one arrived.

Dr. Aaron Rhodes performed the gall bladder surgery on Whitaker. Tim was almost tempted to discount him entirely when he pulled up his Motor Vehicle records and saw the man’s silvery hair and tortoise shell glasses, but set that thought aside. In Gotham, anything was possible, though he did not in anyway fit the sketch. What made him want to tear his hair out was that the surgery on Davis was performed by a female surgeon, this one a final year surgical resident by the name of Michelle Harris. It was supervised by Dr. Schumacher, the chief surgeon.

Two, possibly three, suspects.

They had to be very careful as both men were renowned surgeons who spent an equal amount of time working at Gotham General, though Rhodes donated much of his free time to clinics around the city for the less fortunate. He was a regular at Leslie Thompkins’ Free Clinic in Crime Alley, as well as other clinics in the Bowery, New Town, and Burnley. Schumacher though bore more than a passing resemblance to the sketch they had from Whitaker’s hotel when compared to his driver’s license picture from Motor Vehicle records, which was promising. Tim wanted a better picture before he’d call it a match. Everyone looked horrible in their driver’s license picture.

The only thing Tim could find on Michelle Harris were a few parking tickets. Her driver’s license had her as being rather tall for a woman, taller than Tim by an inch, which Tim made a point of not including in his notes for Malloy to rib him about later. In the right lighting, clothes, and with her long hair pulled back, it would be hard to tell exactly what gender she was.

Three suspects. Tim looked thoughtfully at his computer screen, then at his notes. He wanted to talk to Jason’s hobo very badly to see exactly what he knew and it pained him knowing he couldn’t say anything about him to Malloy just yet.

While Tim and Malloy drew up their profiles on the surgeons, the two detectives Commissioner Gordon promised arrived from Central.

“Well, well, well, we meet again!” said Josie MacDonald as she warmly shook Tim’s hand, then Malloy’s. Marcus Driver stood at her shoulder, a slightly sour look on his face. Both looked smart in their suits. That was certainly one thing the MCU did that no other department in the city did; they all had to dress professionally. Driver grimaced as he took in Tim’s mess of a desk. He and Malloy were sharing for the moment as it was too much effort to push Malloy’s desk over and create more workspace.

“Detective MacDonald,” Tim replied just as warmly. He had a great deal of respect for the woman. Tough as nails, but a heart of gold. “Detective Driver,” he said, turning to hold out his hand for Driver to shake.

The man did so, grip slightly tighter than what was socially acceptable. Nice to see Driver still didn’t like him, but now Tim had a better idea of why. “Drake,” he replied. “The Commish says you need some extra hands, so here we are.” He and Malloy quickly shook hands as well, while Tim went to snag the chairs from Malloy’s desk.

As the MCU detectives settled in, Tim and Malloy brought them up to speed. The sour look on Driver’s face disappeared as he took in all the details, nodding here and there. By the end, he looked impressed. “That’s a lot of solid work, detectives. I see why Gordon is leaving it here.”

MacDonald gave her partner a smile as she elbowed him hard, not making any pretense at hiding it. “Stop being a dick, Marcus. There’s good work being done all over this city, not just down at Central.”

“Sorry,” Driver apologized as he rubbed his side. “So where do you want us to set up shop? I assume there’s a list of cold cases already?”

Malloy pointed to his abandoned desk. “Space is at a premium in this building, so you’ll have to make do with my desk. The Rookie here makes sure the computer runs faster than any other one in this room besides his. He’s better than the damned IT guy.”

“I’ve already emailed you the case numbers and my notes,” Tim said, shaking his head wryly at Malloy’s comment. If he only knew. “If you need help logging in at all, just let me know.”

“Sounds good,” MacDonald replied as she got up, grabbing a satchel from the floor and placing it in the chair. She dragged the chair back to Malloy’s desk and took the spot in front of the computer. Driver nodded in agreement and picked up his chair, taking the open spot on the other side of the desk. MacDonald pulled a laptop from her bag and handed it to her partner.

Watching the MCU detectives settle in a moment longer, Tim turned his attention back to the profile he and Malloy were developing. “Rhodes is the only one of our guys who regularly works at the free clinics around town. Do you think it’s through his work at the clinics that he finds his victims?” he asked Malloy. “I know that a lot of women go there for treatment but never press charges.”

His partner shook his head sadly. “It’s a fucking shame you _know_ what happened to these women and can’t do a damn thing about it because they don’t speak up.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. It was a mess compared to how it looked this morning. “You could be right. Doesn’t explain how he gets the names though. Not like a rapist would go around announcing his name to all his victims. Would make our job a damned sight easier if they did.”

“I was thinking about that. I almost wonder if our guy’s working with someone inside the system who feeds him names. Someone with exposure to either the assault victims or to the perps’ criminal history.” Tim steepled his fingers, elbows on his desk as he thought out loud.

“Perhaps a friend or a family member…” Malloy pulled Tim’s tablet over and swiped through it, looking at Rhodes’ profile. “Married, two kids both adults now, I’m guessing possible grandkids if his age is any indication. Let’s see what Schumacher’s got.” After a few more swipes, “Not married, no kids. He’s got a sister. Let me run her name really quick.” He tapped away a few moments and waited.

Tim stared blankly at his screen, lost in thought. He’d finally gotten a text back from Damian saying he didn’t recall seeing anything matching the metal table or gurney Tim knew had been pushed off the dock last night. He said he’d check with Dick too. It was unusual for Dick to take this long to respond back to a text from Tim. He shot a quick text to Jason to let him know he now had three suspects.

Barbara also had sent him a text, saying she was still working on the camera footage and that her search of box truck rentals and commercial vans had turned up zilch. It was very likely, if the vehicle was being rented, that a false name and cash were being used for the transaction, which made it harder to trace as there was no electronic record of the transaction.

They were getting close, Tim could feel it.

Malloy made a triumphant sound as his search came up with some results. “Here we go. The sister’s name is Alicia Harris, age 48, lives in the Upper East Side. Has three kids, a daughter pushing 30, a boy in his mid 20s, and another daughter in her early 20s. She sure started young. No police history whatsoever, but the younger daughter is a social worker who works out of a women and children’s shelter right here in New Town. The son is newly graduated lawyer working for the prosecutor’s office. And guess what the older one is? A final year surgical resident at Gotham General. Name’s Michelle.”

“Oh fuck me,” Tim groaned, tilting his head back to glare at the ceiling. “Are you saying Dr. Harris is Schumacher’s niece? And he’s got connections to the prosecutor’s office? Goddammit.”

“No shit. We’ve got quite the job ahead of us. Our case has to be solid before we can even bring any of them in for questioning.”

“What about Rhodes? You said he’s got two adult children?”

It takes Malloy a bit longer to find the information he’s looking for. “Both kids live out of state. Hell, one’s clear across the country in California, but the other’s a bit closer in Boston. Both are married and have one kid each.”

“At this point, I don’t think we can rule out either doctor,” Tim said. “Rhodes has the connections to the clinics through his work there and Schumacher has a family connection to at least one shelter _and_ a connection downtown. Somehow, there has to be a way they’re learning when their guys are getting out of prison.”

“Agreed, which makes Schumacher the more likely person of interest. But it’s still too soon to tell.”

Tim sighed and looked at the clock. Almost 5. He blinked in surprise. It hadn’t felt like that much time had passed since lunch. His stomach grumbled a reminder.

Malloy was watching him. “Time to pound the pavement?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’ll grab a bite on the way down to the Bowery.”

“I know this kind of thing works better for you when you’re by yourself, but the Bowery at night is a lot different than New Town at night. I don’t have to worry about you here, Rookie. I do in the Bowery.”

“That’s not what you said last night.”

“I’m allowed to change my mind.”

Tim caved, not wanting an argument. It wouldn’t muck things up if Malloy came along and he’d feel even more included when they found the witness later. “Fine, but you’ll probably want to change first.”

Malloy blinked at Tim in surprise, obviously expecting more resistance, then looked down at his clothes. The khakis were no longer crisp and his tie had long since been pulled to half-mast, collar undone. “Let’s check in with Driver and MacDonald first. I’ll head home, change, then meet you at the diner?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

***** 

A few hours later, Tim and Malloy are walking the dark streets of the Bowery. They started at the warehouse and circled their way out. Not many people were out in an area crawling with cops and CSI the night before, but Tim had managed to speak with a few people that accepted the flyer with the sketch. No one he could call an irregular though. Tim was hesitant to tell his partner that most of his network extended into Crime Alley and the north edge of the Bowery. That would be admitting to wandering in even worse places at night.

He’d gotten enough crap about it from Jason when he found out.

He had high hopes for tonight, once full dark was upon them. They’d be running into the Red Hood again, who would lead them to the guy he’d talked to the night before. Unless Tim got lucky and found him first. Jason did say the guy knew to be on the lookout for him.

But for the moment, Tim enjoyed the cool night air. There was a strong breeze coming in off the sound, with just enough humidity that made him think rain was a good possibility later that night. He wondered if Mendoza had the dive team out today. She hadn’t said anything before she left, so he supposed not. If it did rain, the river would be running heavier, which could take anything else remaining down there further out into the sound.

All the tiny little pieces were starting to make a cohesive picture.

“Where to next?” asked Malloy as Tim walked out of a liquor store. The clerk had taken a flyer but he’d seen him toss it in the garbage out of the corner of his eye as he walked out.

“There’s a restaurant up the street,” Tim gestured with his head. “And I think that’s a bar there on the corner.” He started towards the little restaurant.

Malloy sighed loudly, following. “The last time we went to a bar together on a case didn’t end so well.”

“For us or the guys who attacked us? I thought we did rather well.” Tim tossed a careless grin in his partner’s direction, knowing it would irk him.

“Har, har, very funny, Rookie.”

A new voice chimed in from the alley they were passing. “How does that joke go? Two cops walk into a bar…” It was a familiar voice to Tim and from the look on Malloy’s face, him as well, though they both whirled in the direction of the alley pulling their guns.

Nightwing stood just inside the mouth of the alley, grinning broadly. Behind him was the Red Hood.

“Nightwing!” Malloy actually cried out in surprise. Tim knew the man secretly worshipped Nightwing (or just his ass, he wasn’t entirely sure), so this had to be a treat for him. He was curious as to why the first Robin was here though. Something important must have happened if he was with Red Hood.

“Nightwing,” Tim nodded, putting his gun away. “Hood.” Malloy was echoing the movement, then stopped when he saw Red Hood.

“Detective Drake and I believe it’s Detective Malloy now, right?” Nightwing said easily.

“Y-Yeah. You remember me?” Tim would be teasing his partner for weeks at the slight stutter he suddenly developed in front of the famous vigilante.

“Hard to forget one of the few good cops in the ‘Haven. Nice to see you working with Drake here. He needs someone steady to keep him in line.”

Tim and Hood both snorted in amusement.

“Thanks, Nightwing. It’s good to see you again.” Malloy looked like he wanted to reach out and shake the older vigilante’s hand, but stopped himself before he went through with the movement. He did holster his gun.

“Hood and I both have some things to talk about with the two of you. If you don’t mind stepping into our office?” Nightwing gestured, indicating he wanted them to go into the alley.

Malloy still had enough sense of caution to look at Tim first before following after the two vigilantes. Tim watched a moment, shaking his head in amusement.

About halfway down, Hood abruptly stopped, pulled his grapple gun and shot towards the roof several stories up. Nightwing did the same and held out an arm to Malloy. “Rooftop is more private for this kind of talk,” he explained.

Tim knew what was coming and hated having to pretend he didn’t know how to use a grapple gun in front of his partner. As much as he may bitch and moan about vigilantes and rooftops, they were right about it being more secure than a dank and stinky alley. He walked around Nightwing to Hood, knowing it would be easier if Malloy went with his hero. “Hello again, Detective. Ready for a ride?” Jason’s voice filtered through the helmet, dark and laced with amusement. He was enjoying the hell out of this.

“Not the kind of ride I was looking forward to tonight,” Tim replied glibly, but quietly. He was facing away from Nightwing and Malloy, so he wasn’t too worried about his voice carrying or someone reading his lips. Not that mattered as he heard a loud “ _WHOOP!_ ” as the other two men took to the sky on Nightwing’s grapple line.

Hood clasped Tim around the waist and held him close as he activated the retract switch on the gun to pull them up. The ground quickly disappeared beneath them. “What kind of ride are you thinking of?” he asked.

Tim leaned in to where he knew Jason’s ear would be. “I was thinking of riding you out on the sofa.” He felt Jason shudder at his words.

“Shoulda fucked you sooner if I’d known you’d turn out to be a switch.”

“No use crying over it now,” Tim replied as he held tight for Hood to pull him up and over the edge of the roof. He wasn’t supposed to know how to ride the momentum and roll with it.

A few steps back from the ledge, Malloy was gasping from the rush of riding a grapple line for the first time. “Okay, I think that just went down as one of my new favorite things,” he said.

Nightwing chuckled at Malloy, then turned to Tim and Hood. “What about you, Drake? Enjoy the ride?”

Tim made a conscious effort to step away from Red Hood. He wasn’t supposed to be comfortable with the man after all. “It was…different,” he said diplomatically. “Like a zip line, but straight up.”

He waited for Malloy to finish catching his breath before asking the so-called million-dollar question. “So what did you two need to speak with us about that involved zip lining us up to the rooftops?”

Nightwing and Hood shared a glance before the older man went first. “Batman was going over the crime scene photos this morning and noticed something odd about the tire tracks. He suspects the murder occurred on a raised rolling platform of some kind, like a gurney or mobile surgical table.” He was echoing what Tim had sent him in the text earlier on purpose.

Malloy looked at Tim. “That’s what the Rookie here thinks too. Captain Mendoza was supposed to call in the dive team to see if they could find the table. I’m not sure where they are with that.”

“Tomorrow morning,” Nightwing replied. “I checked before I left to find Drake.”

Tim opened his mouth, then shut it quickly. Of course the Bats would think nothing of hacking into the GCPD system to see what specialized teams were being deployed and when. Malloy caught the movement and frowned. “You access GCPD systems on your own?” he asked Nightwing.

The vigilante shrugged casually. “All the time. You need better firewalls.”

“Nightwing…” Tim said pointedly. “You’re not supposed to admit that to a pair of detectives.” Even though he privately agrees...

“Technically we shouldn’t even be talkin’ to ya,” Hood drawled.

“But you are, so that’s that,” Tim replied. “So the dive isn’t until tomorrow morning. You were down there last night, Nightwing. Do you remember seeing anything?”

Nightwing gaped, looking over at Malloy quickly. “Um…” he said uncertainly.

“God, you must have the world’s worst poker face,” Tim commented with a laugh at Nightwing’s expression. “I told Malloy last night that you, Batman, Batgirl, and Robin went diving into the Sprang and found the plastic sheet you pulled up.”

“That’s not in your report,” Nightwing retorted as Malloy snorted in amusement.

“Do you seriously think I’m going to write in an official report that the capes went diving for me? As soon as any sign of caped involvement occurs, all of our cases go down to Central. I just convinced the Commissioner this afternoon to let us keep this one,” Tim said defensively.

“Whoa, calm down there, detective.” Nightwing held his hands up and made a gesture Tim supposed was meant to be soothing. “We’re all on the same side here.”

“Yes, but I have to agree with my partner on this one,” Malloy chimed in. “This is our case and we’re not letting it go down to Central if we can help it. So for the moment, all vigilante involvement gets chalked up to Tim’s irregulars.”

Tim shot a brief smile at his partner before turning his attention back on Nightwing. “So, did you see anything?”

Nightwing shook his head. “No, but Robin and I were only a few yards from the end of the dock at most. The bottom was sloped at bit where we were. It was also darker than hell and murky. Even with the lights, our visibility was maybe a foot in front of us. Not exactly the best conditions for a dive.”

Tim nodded thoughtfully.

Nightwing continued. “It’s also raining upstate, which means the Gotham River’s going to be running higher tomorrow, meaning the Sprang will too. Your dive may be canceled if it is.”

Groaning in frustration, Tim started pacing. “Goddammit,” he cursed. “I know it’s just a piece of circumstantial evidence at best right now, but it’s all we got. Fuck.”

Hood started chuckling. “You might want to settle down and let Goldenboy here keep goin’, Detective.”

Nightwing shook his head in amusement at Red Hood. “Spoilsport.”

“Fuck you. I’m waitin’ for my turn, so keep goin’”.

“What else have you got, Nightwing?” Malloy asked as Tim stopped his pacing.

“Since we know how important this is, Batman’s down there in the sub right now looking for a gurney or whatever it turns out to be. If he finds anything, he’ll bring it up, very likely do his own examination of it, then turn it over to Gordon.”

Tim and Malloy both gaped at the news. This certainly warranted Nightwing coming out in person. Batman was in the sub combing the Sprang and the entrance of Kane Sound looking for his evidence. “If he finds anything, tell him I said thank you,” Tim said. Malloy echoed the sentiment.

“And on that note, it’s my turn,” Red Hood stepped in. He’d been standing off to the side, arms crossed and looking like a general bad ass. His leather jacket was hanging open revealing a slashed up t-shirt underneath. Tim could see his body armor beneath it. He wondered what Jason got up to before meeting up with him or if this was courtesy of Nightwing waylaying him.

Malloy narrowed his eyes, obviously much less trusting of the information Hood was about to provide. He had no reason not to believe the man, as he hadn’t played them false the last time out front of the Alley. Tim chalked it up to Hood’s reputation. Since his return to the streets, the Red Hood may not have been as trigger happy, but he was still downright vicious when it came to driving a point home, breaking more bones than he had before. As far as Tim knew, Jason hadn’t killed anyone since Black Mask back in March. That was almost six months now, though admittedly he’d been down for the count for almost five full months recovering.

Tim made a go ahead gesture. He needed to be more careful of how he acted around Hood. It would have been so much easier if Malloy weren’t here.

Hood took it. “I found ya a witness. Sorta. Heard a funny story last night, so I got curious and decided ta look into it.”

Malloy’s face was appropriately shocked and Tim made sure his was too. “What? Holy crap, that’s awesome. Where is he?”

“Not in the same place as last night, I’ll tell ya that. Fucker moved on me so I had to track him down before lookin’ for you.”

“What did he see?” Malloy asked. “You said he was sort of a witness.”

“He saw a guy dumpin’ some shit in the river at the back of the warehouse your boy was found on top of yesterday. Said he saw the guy doin’ somethin’ on the roof too, but didn’t see exactly what.” Tim loved how thick Jason’s street accent could get, dropping consonants and changing vowels. It almost sounded like a southern accent at times but Tim knew that was normal for this part of the state. As Jason liked to joke, he cleaned up pretty, but you couldn’t take the kid fully off the streets. It was something that made Red Hood the anti-hero he was. The people on his streets accepted him because he was one of _them_. It was a distinction Jason liked to harp on when ranting about Bruce.

“That works for me,” Tim said excitedly. “Where do we find him? Will he speak to us, on the record?”

“Dunno about on the record, but he will speak with you. C’mon, he’s just a few streets over.” Hood turned away, gearing up to start running across the roof.

“Um, Hood? I think you forgot we’re not exactly trained for rooftop running,” Malloy said loudly. “The Rookie here might be, he can do some crazy shit, but my feet need to be on the ground.”

Nightwing glided over and grasped Malloy tightly, firing his grapple gun at the side of the roof opposite the one they were standing on. “Drake can run on rooftops. I’ve seen him do it before. We’ll take the southerly route.” With that, he jumped off the roof with Malloy shouting loudly all the way down.

Tim gaped a moment, then started laughing. “Shit, that’s hilarious!”

Behind him, the Red Hood sidled up, placing an arm around Tim’s waist. “Sure is, but I wonder just how much trouble it’s going to land you in for knowing how to parkour on the rooftops of Gotham.”

“You’re taking the fun out of it.”

“Fine, be that way. I’ll just laugh in your face when you whine to me later on about all the questions he’s asking.”

“Nah, I’ll just remind him about how he screamed like a little girl all the way down. I bet Dick’s ears are ringing.”

“No shit. C’mon, it’s not that far.” With that, Hood started running again, this time with Tim following.

It quickly became apparent to Tim that Hood was running slower than he usually did so that Tim could keep up. He wasn’t huffing per se, but it was hard work to gain enough speed and momentum to launch one’s self across the gap between buildings, tuck and roll so as to not get hurt on the landing, then get up and do it again. The rhythm Hood fell into looked easy, but Tim knew it was years and years of practice that made it so. He also had significantly more padding to cushion the rolls too. His shoulders were going to be killing him later.

He also better understood why some nights Jason’s leg hurt more than others. These landings were hard on a body and Jason still complained a bit about an ache in his leg, even almost six months after the injury. The man may be in fantastic shape and heal slightly faster than normal (Jason blamed the Pit for that), but running around even a small part of Gotham on a nightly basis was rough on the body. Small wonder all of the Bats favored motorcycles and other fast cars to get around when they could or the grapple lines to swing through the air.

“Holding up okay, stalker?” Hood called back to Tim.

“I’m.” _Huff._ “Fine.” _Huff_. Tim stood up from the roll he just pulled out of and started running after Hood again. “How much further?” he asked. He needed to start jogging again in his free time. It was kind of embarrassing, being this out of breath in front of his boyfriend.

“Two more buildings, then across the street. I’ll bring us down to ground level before we cross. Don’t want you going splat.”

“If I had my own grapple line, I could make that crossing.” Tim took a deep breath and made another leap.

He wasn’t sure Hood heard him until he pulled up from his roll. “Yeah? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with a grapple before.”

“Nightwing taught me. When he first took over as Batman after Bane. Slapped a mask on me and took me out one night to teach me to fly.” It was still one of the best nights ever in Tim’s opinion.

“That’s the best way to do it, though I suppose you practiced in the Cave some first?”

“Of course. I’m not stupid.” Tim gauged the final jump and made it, rolling and letting himself come to a full stop. He lay flat on his back, gasping.

Hood came and stood over him, hands on his hips looking down. He couldn’t see it behind the helmet Jason wore, but Tim knew the man was grinning widely. “Stop laughing at me,” he said weakly, waving an arm in Hood’s general direction before letting it flop to the rooftop. Grit and gravel dug into Tim’s back through the thin shirts he was wearing. Yeah, he was going to be sore later.

“I’m not laughing,” he said. “That was really fucking impressive, stalker. I’ve got to put a mask on you some night so we can just go running. You can show me those mad grapple skills you have.”

“You’ve been wanting to slap a mask on me for a while now and I keep saying no.” Tim shook his head as he sat up. Hood held out a heavily gloved hand to pull Tim all the way up. “But for this, perhaps I’ll make an exception.”

Hood laughed all the way down to the street.

***** 

Tim and Hood beat Malloy and Nightwing to the abandoned tenement building where Hood said his witness was hiding. Apparently he didn’t usually go to the docks and had only been up on the roof when he had because of the moon and how it looked against the Sprang Bridge and the city skyline.

“Yeah, I’m an artist. Or I was, at least. Nowadays, I’m a street artist when I can get my hands on the right supplies.” The man was young, perhaps a little older than Tim. In the poor lighting, it was hard to say what color his dirty hair was, but it was dark and in desperate need of a cut. A couple weeks worth of a scraggly beard hid some of the man’s features, but not the prominent cheekbones. Starving artist indeed, but surprisingly articulate.

“If you have the information Hood says you have, I’ll make sure of it. Now tell me, what did you see?”

The man, who said his name was Barnaby Smyth (Tim suspected it wasn’t his real name, but his artist’s name the way he spelled out the last name; why people felt the urge to be pretentious when wearing clothing one step up from rags and in need of a good meal was beyond him), told Tim pretty much the same story Jason told him the night before. While the man was talking, Malloy and Nightwing arrived, the former looking like he was still seeing stars. If Tim didn’t know better, he’d say the flush his partner wore was from something else. As it was, the man was still collecting himself from the dive off the building earlier. The look he shot Tim though was full of questions, just like Jason predicted.

Knowing now was not the time for those questions, Malloy quickly introduced himself as Tim’s partner and, once Barnaby got over meeting Nightwing, he continued. The only thing different he told the detectives was that he remembered seeing a small moving truck parked outside the warehouse when he was first climbing up to the roof of the warehouse next door.

“There are at least three major moving companies in the city,” Tim commented. “Do you remember any distinguishing characteristics on the truck?”

Barnaby nodded enthusiastically. “It had a picture of a dinosaur on the side.”

Tim shot Malloy a victorious smile, which he returned enthusiastically. “There’s only one company with pictures on their moving vans.”

“You said the truck headed towards Burnley when it left?” Malloy asked. He had a pad of paper and a pen out, taking notes, even though he knew Tim was recording the entire conversation.

“Yes, sir,” Barnaby said. “It headed away from the Sprang Bridge at least, so that’s Burnley unless it turned elsewhere.”

“Knowing our luck so far, he turned elsewhere,” Tim muttered quietly. There had been no luck on the Burnley traffic cameras yet, but now that they knew what kind of truck to look for, it shouldn’t be hard to widen the search.

“Mr. Smyth, you’ve been a huge help,” Malloy said. “Thank you for speaking with us and going on the record. When we find this guy, we will need you to come to the station and make an official statement. Are you usually found in this area?”

Barnaby nodded vigorously. He seemed taken by Malloy’s easy smile and charm, which he was employing in spades to offset the menace of the Red Hood still standing off to the side with Nightwing. “Yes, sir! This is my space, at least right now it is.” The artist gestured to the small apartment in the condemned building.

“I’ll make sure it stays your space,” Hood said quietly.

“Thanks, Hood!” The man’s smile was so bright, Tim wondered if the man might be a bit simple. He wasn’t afraid of Red Hood, that’s for certain. Malloy was wasting his charm attack for nothing.

“And I’ll get you those art supplies I promised. For the moment, you hungry?” Tim asked. “I saw a diner not too far from here.” Barnaby’s eyes widened at the thought of a meal.

“The food’s good there,” Hood commented.

“Then let’s go,” Malloy said, gesturing broadly at Barnaby. The man’s grin grew even brighter as he followed the detective out the door.

Tim went to follow, then paused, looking back at Nightwing and Hood. “Thanks guys. I mean it.”

“Anytime, little brother,” Nightwing said cheerfully, grabbing Tim into a quick hug. “Family, remember?”

Tim thought back to the distinctly unbrotherly like behavior he and Jason had been engaging in for the past few months, but put a smile on his face for Dick. “Yeah. If you wack me over the head with it enough, it might stick.”

Hood laughed and ruffled Tim’s hair as he walked out of the room. “I can think of a few other things I’d like to smack over Goldie’s head.”

Nightwing pouted and Tim laughed. Jason could always get that look on Dick’s face with minimal effort. “Come on, Jay. Don’t be that way.” He chased after Hood, babbling something at him that Tim missed.

Shaking his head, he closed the door to Barnaby’s room.

It had been a good night. Batman was scouring the river bottom for him, he’d met up with Jason’s witness to the dumping, and he’d gotten to go roof running with the Red Hood with the full knowledge of his partner. That may come back to bite him in the ass, but right now, Tim didn’t care.

He wondered what commentary he’d have to listen to later from Malloy about Nightwing. He hides it well, but he’s definitely carrying a torch for the man. Tim can relate. He’s been carrying one for a certain former Robin for a very long time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To find out what Malloy is really thinking, check out chapter two of A Different Point of View, the companion piece I wrote to start exploring Malloy's character a bit more after certain events occur here. For those who follow the comments on this fic, I finally made my decision about him too.
> 
> Next week: Tim lets something slip, Malloy doesn't buy what Tim's trying to sell, Stephanie enjoys some eye-candy, and Jason gets to meet Cassius Black (or Detective Asshat as he renames him).


	18. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter. I swear, it felt a lot shorter when I was rereading it.

Chapter Fourteen – Day Three (Morning) 

Tim woke up feeling sore. Admittedly, he’d gone to bed feeling the same, his shoulders finally starting to ache from the repeated slams against the rooftops he’d been running on the night before. Jason hadn’t been back yet before he’d gone to bed and Tim was kind of glad for it. He didn’t have the energy for sofa shenanigans and had promptly crashed as soon as he tumbled out of the shower.

It was pretty rare now for Tim to go to bed by himself. Since Jason came back after their blow up last month, he pretty much spent every night at Tim’s apartment, whether it was sacked out on the sofa or stretched out on the bed. Guessing from the heat enveloping Tim right now, Jason was lying next to him. He shifted a bit, taking in the sight of his boyfriend sleeping peacefully next to him. Jason had admitted not too long ago that he slept better next to Tim. Fewer nightmares, but Tim had still been woken up from a sound sleep to Jason sitting bolt upright in bed, holding a gun at some unseen person at the foot of the bed. He knew without saying it was the Joker.

Right now though, Jason’s body heat was acting like a hot pad for Tim’s back and shoulders and he wanted nothing more than to pull the man tighter around him and go back to sleep. It was after 8 though and Tim had to be at the precinct by 930 for a meeting.

Tim tried to quietly roll out of bed, but the twinge in his back made him gasp in pain. Jason woke with a start, eyes darting around the room before settling on Tim. “You all right, stalker?” he asked sleepily, settling back down.

“Just my back deciding to yell at me for punishing it last night.” Tim slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed, gasping a bit at the movement. “I haven’t been running like that in a few years. Should have worn a jacket.”

Behind him, Jason rolled over and switched on the bedside lamp, then turned back to Tim. “Shit,” he said as he got a look at Tim’s back. The shorter man hadn’t slept with a shirt on last night. “You are one big fucking bruise. I don’t know how you’re even moving. Did you take anything last night?” He got up quickly and went to the closet where he kept some of his Red Hood gear.

“Yeah, just some ibuprofen.” Tim slowly stood up and minced his way to the bathroom, slapping on the light as he did so. Momentarily blinded, he blinked quickly and gasped as he got a look at his back in the mirror. His shoulders and upper back was one big mottled bruise. “Fuck,” he said slowly, dragging out the word. “That is the last time I go running across rooftops in just a t-shirt and an over-shirt.”

“No shit,” Jason agreed as he followed Tim into the bathroom, carrying a small container of something. “I’m sorry, Tim. I shoulda known better. I’m so used to all my extra gear it didn’t even dawn on me what you didn’t have on.”

“Me too, so that makes me just as stupid. Plus, you’ve got about 50 pounds of muscle I don’t. I just wish I had a tub so I could take a hot bath.”

“Don’t worry, I still like you just fine. Only need one muscle bound idiot around here. And,” Jason said, holding out the container for Tim to see. “This’ll help. It’s Alfred’s special mix for bruises, plus a few things I added. I didn’t just learn how to blow shit up in my formative years.”

“You’re amazing, I love you, now get that on my back,” Tim said in a rush, bracing himself against his sink. “I need to leave soon and want that to have a chance to soak in before I put a shirt on.”

In the mirror, Tim saw Jason’s eyes widen in surprise. He ran back through what he just said and slapped a hand over his mouth. _Shit_. He sighed heavily, dropping his head and his hand, breaking eye contact. “Um, Jay…” he started to say shakily but was stopped by feeling Jason wrap his arms slowly and carefully around Tim’s waist. He didn’t quite lean in fully against the shorter man, but was close enough Tim could feel the warmth of Jason’s breath against the side of his neck and the light press of his warm chest against the bare skin of his back.

“Say it again, stalker,” he whispered in Tim’s ear.

Tim lifted his head to look in the mirror, meeting Jason’s piercing blue gaze again. “I love you,” he said quietly. He saw and felt Jason shudder against him at the words.

Not breaking the gaze, Jason slowly worked his way up the side of Tim’s neck, placing feather light kisses and tracing the rim of Tim’s ear with his lips and tip of his tongue. He didn’t say anything back, but Tim knew by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t upset at the words.

He shifted, wanting to turn around, but his back protested the action, taking that moment to seize tightly. Tim gasped in pain and almost fell to his knees, only his arms against the counter and Jason’s grip on his waist keeping him up.

Jason chuckled against Tim’s neck and pulled back a bit, placing a final kiss on Tim’s cheek. “Way to ruin the moment, stalker.”

“Fu-ck you,” Tim gasped out.

“Maybe not for a few days. Let’s get this stuff on you, then you can lay on the bed with the heating pad on until you have to leave. I’ll pack you something for breakfast.” Tim could see Jason’s wide grin in the mirror.

“And coffee.”

Jason sighed as he started gently rubbing a waxy salve onto Tim’s back. It smelled herbal with a hint of lemon. “And coffee.”

***** 

Tim sat gingerly, wishing his chair here at the station was as comfortable as the one at home. The salve Jason put on him helped, but he was still feeling very stiff. He wasn’t looking forward to trying to hide it as only Malloy had even a clue as to what he’d done to get this sore. He’d have to come up with a story and fast. Perhaps some stairs…

Before leaving his apartment, he’d gotten a text from Dick saying Batman had found a metal gurney about 500 yards from the dock. It was mostly intact and caught in a rather strong current. It made Tim realize just how lucky they’d been to find the plastic sheet with Davis’ blood still in it.

Luck. He’d been lucky this morning too with Jason. Tim ran a hand through tousled black hair. He slept on it wet, so it was a mess this morning and raising his hand above his mouth earlier involved too much effort. Jason…Tim didn’t think for a second they wouldn’t be talking about his little revelation. It gave him hope though that Jason hadn’t run when he said it. If anything, it made him…happy? Tim wasn’t entirely sure what the look Jason had given him meant, but it wasn’t fear or anger. If anything, he looked like he wanted to devour Tim.

He was perfectly happy with that, so long as his back muscles didn’t protest too loudly.

“You look a million miles away,” Malloy said, sitting down in his usual chair on the other side of Tim’s desk. “How long you been here? You haven’t even turned your computer on.”

Tim startled in surprise, then grimaced as his back made its displeasure known at the quick movement. “Long enough,” he replied, reaching over to power on his monitor and login.

Malloy gave him an assessing look. “Just so you know, we are totally going to be talking about last night. But for our meeting today, we found Smyth through good old-fashioned pavement pounding, got it?”

“Got it.” Tim took a sip of coffee from his travel mug. He’d argued for a thermos, but Jason had given him a dirty look and threatened to slap his back.

Malloy’s eyes narrowed at Tim’s stiff movements. “You all right there, Rookie? Do I need to have a talk with Jason about safe sex?”

Tim shot an amused look at his partner. “I fell down some stairs last night on my way home,” he lied blithely.

“Uh-huh,” Malloy drawled, taking in his partner’s pained posture. “Looks to me more like you went a few rounds with a rooftop.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. He knew his partner was going to push things this morning, but didn’t expect him to start right in the middle of the bullpen. “Not here,” he said in a low tone, edged with warning.

The warning rolled right over Malloy like Tim knew it would based on the man’s answering grin, but the man took the hint. “Right. Stairs: 1, Tim: 0. We’ll talk later.”

Nodding, Tim pulled his keyboard over and pulled up the website for the moving company. Time to get to work. “I can’t believe our guy rented a truck from the most recognizable moving company in the business. Can those trucks be more distinctive?”

“I know, right?” said Malloy as he twisted Tim’s monitor so he could see too. “I’m thinking we’ll be canvasing the local offices today with our sketch. See who rented a dinosaur van in the last few days and returned it with the interior squeaky clean.”

“That alone should make someone remember. Unless our guy lined the interior with plastic first, then disposed of that when he moved Davis.” Tim frowned at the thought. “I’m pretty sure the slicing to ribbons part didn’t occur until he was at the warehouse.”

“Shh, don’t knock my theory. I get so few of them compared to you.” Malloy mocked.

“Well, I have a feeling that you’ll be doing the canvasing. I think I’m going to be stuck here going through more traffic camera footage.”

“Is your back that bad?” Malloy asked, finally sounding a bit sympathetic.

“More so my shoulders and upper back. I shouldn’t have done that without a heavier jacket on for some protection. I know better…” Tim bit his lip as he realized what he just said.

“Lucky for you, MCU just arrived, so you’re saved by the bell,” Malloy said, giving Tim a pointed look as he got up to greet Driver and MacDonald.

“Lucky me,” Tim muttered.

***** 

Tim stood in front of Captain Pierce’s desk, tablet in hand as he read from his notes. In the small room with him were the captain, Malloy, Driver, and MacDonald. Commissioner Gordon and Captain Mendoza were on the speakerphone. He updated everyone about the witness he and Malloy ‘found’ last night and the man’s story. “He may not have gotten a clear look at our killer, but he did state he saw a moving truck with a dinosaur on the side, as well as confirmed our suspicion that the killer was using some kind of portable stretcher or gurney in conjunction with the killings, either as the transport device to move the victims or to perform the act. My money’s on both.”

“And where is the gurney right now?” asked Commissioner Gordon.

“At the bottom of the Sprang River or washed out into Kane Sound,” Tim replied. He wondered when he’d get to see it himself. Knowing Bruce, he’d have something tonight at the earliest. Also knowing Bruce, he’d try to use it as leverage to get Tim back into the Batcave. Not that that was going to happen anytime soon.

“I’ve got the GCPD dive team suited up and diving right now at the dock at the back of that warehouse,” Mendoza said. “I’m with them, in fact. The team leader said the water is murky as hell this morning due to some rain upstate, so it’s running harder than usual. Currents are stronger too. He’s not holding out much hope that they’re going to find anything, but they’ll keep going as long as conditions don’t change for the worse.”

Tim inwardly chuckled. The dive team would find squat as the gurney was in the Batcave right now. Even if Batman hadn’t found it, 500 yards was way too far for the team to be diving in conditions like this.

“You let the team leader make that call. Let’s not risk lives needlessly,” Gordon said.

“Of course, sir.”

Taking his cue again, Tim continued. “Initial ME’s report came in this morning too. Davis was killed in almost the exact same manner as Whitaker. And by exact, the ME said the only difference is a few extra slices across the man’s midsection. Everything else was the same.” No need to go into the exact details, everyone in this room and on the phone had read Whitaker’s file already and knew where certain body parts would be found. “We’re waiting for CSI to come back with a DNA profile on the blood sample recovered from the warehouse to see if it’s a match to the one we already have on file for Davis. So far, all we know is that it’s the same blood type, which is promising.”

He paused, checking to see if there were any questions. “So that leaves us with continuing to find evidence and build our case. Rhodes and Schumacher are still our best bets at the moment, but with Schumacher’s connection to the prosecutor’s office, we want to make sure there’s no wiggle room out before we even bring him in. The profiles Malloy and I developed indicate neither man is a flight risk. If anything, they’re waiting for the next opportunity.”

“Any ideas on how he’s finding his victims?” Captain Pierce asked.

“We’re still working on that. Rhodes does a lot of volunteer work in the free clinics, while Schumacher’s niece is a social worker at a women and children’s shelter here in New Town, so there’s also a possible source. I’d like to question her first, see if she lets anything drop in casual conversation.”

“I think I can help with that,” MacDonald spoke up. “Before joining the MCU, I was in Missing Persons. I’ve been to just about every shelter in the city at some point or other. I know how to talk to these people, both the workers and those who’re there for help.”

Tim nodded. “Sounds good. Let’s draw up a list of questions to ask. Do you think it’s better if you went alone or with one of us to back you up?”

MacDonald looked thoughtful for a moment before replying. “I’d say alone unless you want to come with, Detective Drake. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re kind of harmless looking.”

Malloy didn’t muffle his snort of laughter fast enough as Tim made a face. Even Driver cracked a smile while Pierce just shook his head ruefully. “I get that a lot,” Tim said.

“And it comes back to bite whoever says it in the ass, so be careful if you take him out, Josie,” Malloy commented with a grin.

“We’ll see what my back decides after lunch, Detective.” Tim moved stiffly around to face Captain Pierce. “For the morning, I’ll be watching more traffic cameras, Driver and MacDonald will be finalizing their review of the potential cold cases we can link to this guy, and Malloy will be going around Gotham with our sketch looking for which moving van location rented a truck to Rhodes or Schumacher recently. Captain Mendoza, let us know if the divers find anything.”

“I approve,” said Gordon. “What did you do to your back, Drake?”

“I fell down some stairs,” Tim replied blandly.

***** 

A few hours later, Tim’s shifted just about every which way he could in his chair to keep his back from screaming at him. Standing finally turned out to be the best option, so Tim adjusted his monitor and spent the last hour standing behind his desk, much to the amusement of the detectives passing by.

If Jason told anyone about this, Tim was going to kick his ass. Damian would never let him live it down.

But the agony was worth it, in more ways than one. He finally had a bead on a moving van heading out of the Bowery and across one of the bridges crossing the Sprang River into the Upper East Side. He was currently watching cameras on Murphy Avenue as the van made its way south. It was going at a steady clip, but not too fast as to arouse suspicion.

Pulling out his phone, Tim called Malloy.

The detective answered after a few rings. “Hey, Rookie! Find something?”

“How about a moving van headed down into the Upper East Side around 2 in the morning?”

“Upper East huh? God, what a waste of my time. What happened to Burnley?”

“The truck took one of the smaller bridges across the Sprang instead of the main bridge before he even made it to Burnley.” Tim switched to another set of cameras and plugged in the times he was looking for.

Malloy made a frustrated sound. “I’ve made it all the way to the bloody Hill and found shit. All right, I’m coming back to the station for lunch and debrief.”

“It’s lunchtime already?” Tim glanced at the clock.

“I know what I’m getting you for Christmas now, Rookie. A big digital alarm clock with bright red numbers even you can’t miss.”

Tim ignored the dig. “I’ll see you shortly.” He hung up, turning his attention back to the screen. The truck hadn’t made it to the next set of cameras, which meant he’d made a turn somewhere on Murphy between 12th Street and 13th Street. He started searching other cameras.

“Rough night, Drake?”

Concentration broken, Tim paused the search and looked away from the monitor to see Detectives Black and Simpson standing in front of his desk. While Black was a capital dick, Simpson usually wasn’t too bad, at least on his own. With his partner around though, he tended to hang back but he had been known to toss in a few zingers of his own at Tim. “It was a good night actually, up until I got home and fell down the stairs in front of my building.”

“Is that what you’re saying happened?” Black had the faintest beginnings of a sneer on his face. Simpson looked a bit uncomfortable. It was a warning sign and Tim took it as such. Whatever Black was planning on calling Tim out on, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Why would I lie about falling down some stairs?” Tim tried his hardest to keep his expression even and voice bland. Where was Black going with this?

“I dunno,” he drawled. “Perhaps that fancy, high rollin’ lifestyle you’re enjoying _again_ is catching up to you. All those nights with Stephanie Wayne are bound to catch up to you sooner or later.”

So that was it. Tim knew his past wasn’t likely to stay completely under wraps after going with Bruce and Stephanie to the Germaine Club back in July. He may have grown up, but the society pages loved his “riches to rags and back again” story. When he’d read that particular article, he took great pleasure in lighting it on fire on his fire escape with Jason’s lighter, the other man hanging out the window and laughing loudly. The news ran with it for a few days, especially after they connected Tim as the detective that arrested Ross Sinclair, but dropped it after Tim didn’t make any more public appearances with the Wayne’s. He also hadn’t heard any comments from anyone at the precinct, so he figured he’d gotten lucky.

Steph’s appearance yesterday was coming back to haunt him.

But this was familiar territory for Tim, so he knew how to proceed. “Hmm,” he said thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his cheek. “Let’s see, when was the last time I went out for a night of fun with Steph? You know, I can’t remember? Going to that club with her and Bruce sure didn’t count, that was for work. We had lunch yesterday, but only because she wanted to vent about one of her brothers pissing her off.” That was putting it mildly.

Black snorted in disbelief. “C’mon, Drake, don’t play dumb. You’ve been screwing around with that pretty twist since the Whitaker case. What’s your game, trying to get in with Bruce Wayne again? Get your daddy’s company back or just sit back and enjoy the high life while the rest of us do _real_ work?”

Simpson looked really uncomfortable now. Whatever Black had told him he was going to do to Tim, this apparently wasn’t it.

Tim narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if Black had noticed, but the office had gone quiet. Everyone was watching, including Driver and MacDonald from Malloy’s desk a few paces away. “Black,” he said calmly, “You’re making an even bigger ass out of yourself than usual. Yes, I’m friends with Stephanie Wayne. Have been for _years_. And that’s all there is to it.”

“Bullshit,” Black growled. “You used Wayne’s money to buy your way into this department. No _rookie detective_ gets into Homicide without some kind of bribe. So who was it, huh? Who’d you pay off?”

“What I’d like to know,” a new voice chimed in, familiar and sounding more than a bit pissed off, “is where you get off insinuating my sister is sleeping with Drake. Last I knew she’s seeing someone else.” It was Jason. Tim peered around Black and Simpson, surprised to see his boyfriend standing there. He’d cleaned up a bit for a visit to the station, wearing jeans without holes in the knees and a black over-shirt unbuttoned to show the white t-shirt beneath. He was also scowling fiercely and looked ready to toss the contents of the tall coffee cup he was holding into Black’s face.

Tim blinked quickly, trying to hide his surprise. Jason Todd was standing in the middle of a police station. _The Red Hood_ was standing in the middle of a police station. Things were going to south fast if he didn’t do something.

Simpson made the connection first. “You’re Jason Wayne,” he almost stuttered out. The man must have followed Jason’s “miraculous” story. His picture, new and old, had been plastered on the headlines for weeks along with Bruce’s. There was no mistaking Jason for Dick as Jason scowled in all the pictures, much the same as he was doing now.

“Yeah, I am.” It was very rare Jason acknowledged the Wayne part of his name. “So, like I said, where do you get off saying Drake’s sleeping with my sister?” He was glaring at Black, who looked about ready to pick a fight with the bigger man. Like that would end well.

“Jason,” Tim said warningly. “Knock it off. Black’s the office blowhard, just ignore him.”

Black was fuming and it showed. He turned back to Tim. “You so weak you have to have someone else fight your battles for you, huh? I’m starting to think it’s not money you’re into the Wayne’s for. Perhaps you take it up the ass from them instead? That why your back hurt so badly today?”

Tim clenched his jaw tightly, keeping a very close eye on Jason who looked about ready to explode. “I don’t have to take this from you, Black,” he said, trying very hard to keep calm. “I’ve been friends with the Wayne’s since I was 13. I don’t need to justify my relationship with _any_ of them to you. If you think I bribed my way into this department, take it up with Internal Affairs. I’d be glad to speak with them.”

Jason looked like he wanted to say something else, but Captain Pierce chose that moment to step out of his office. “Black! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he shouted. Apparently, someone had told him what was going on. “My office, now!”

Black looked about ready to throw a punch at Tim, the anger in his eyes was so strong. Tim almost wished he would; he’d be glad for an excuse the lay the man out on the floor.  
  
“Black!” Pierce roared again.

“The captain’s calling you,” Tim said quietly. He caught Jason’s eye and the big man stood down, though the look on his face clearly said he thought Tim was being stupid. His lips quirked slightly at Jason, unable to keep the level look on his face.

The next thing Tim knew, Black was lunging at him from across his desk, neatly evading the grasp Simpson tried to catch him in before it was too late. “Laugh at me, you fucking fag!” he roared as he grabbed Tim by the front of his dress shirt and tried to punch him square in the face.

Tim’s training kicked in when he saw Black moving, already evading the punch to grasp the man’s arm firmly, turn his body into the movement of the man flying over his desk and send him tumbling to the floor. He dropped to his knees, ignoring the protest of his back, to grab Black’s arm and twist it back in a hold that would easily dislocate the man’s shoulder if he put the right amount of pressure on it. “What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” he shouted. “Have you completely lost your fucking mind!?”

Black was cursing furiously, almost incoherently. Tim was so focused on the man below him that he almost missed Simpson, Pierce, and Driver rushing around the desk. “Drake, let him go,” Pierce ordered. “He’s in a room full of cops, even he’s not that dumb.”

“He was already dumb enough to attack me in a room full of cops. Someone get his gun, then I’ll let him up,” Tim snapped back.

Driver kneeled down and pulled the gun from Black’s shoulder holster. “Check his ankles,” Simpson said quietly. “He sometimes has another one there.”

The MCU detective reached down and patted Black’s calves all the way to his feet. “Not today,” he said and stood up, handing the gun to MacDonald who was standing right behind him.

Tim released his hold on Black and stood up, backing away a few steps to give himself some space in case Black tried something again. He didn’t look, but he suddenly _knew_ Jason was right behind him. “Don’t even think about it,” Tim muttered in a low tone. The absolute last thing he needed was Jason attacking a cop, even in self-defense.

“Only if he comes this way,” Jason replied, breath almost tickling as he whispered in Tim’s ear.

Black didn’t get the chance to try again as Simpson and Driver hauled him to his feet. He was still cursing and trying to lunge at Tim, but the two detectives had a good grip on his arms. “Josie, get your cuffs,” Driver said loudly over Black’s swearing. He and Simpson manage to twist Black’s arms behind his back and MacDonald slapped a pair of cuffs on him.

“Lock him in Interview One, right now,” Pierce ordered. “Let him cool his head in there.”

Simpson and Driver dragged Black away.

Pierce watched a moment before turning his attention on Tim. “What the fucking hell is going on here? Black’s never made any pretense at liking you, Drake, so what got up his ass and died this time?”

Tim’s eyes widened. Pierce only swore that much when he was _pissed_. He should know, he’d been on the receiving end of a tirade like this when he went up against the Snakes back in March.

“If I may, sir, I think I may have caused that, at least accidently.” Jason stepped out from behind Tim to stand next to him. “I made a face at Tim when Detective Asshat tried to glare him down after you yelled at them. I didn’t think he’d actually react.”

Pierce turned his glare on Jason. “And who the hell are you?”

Jason sat the coffee cup he’s still holding on Tim’s desk and held out his hand. “Jason Todd Wayne.”

“And you’re here why exactly?”

Jason shot a look over at Tim. The detective looked back at him, then his captain, then scanned the room quickly. Almost everyone has vacated the room at this point. The only person still standing close was MacDonald. This wasn’t exactly how he wanted to come out at the office, but he returned Jason’s almost teal gaze and nodded.

“I’m here to pick up my boyfriend for lunch. He has a tendency to skip meals.”

Whatever Pierce had been expecting Jason to say, that certainly wasn’t it as the captain’s head whipped around to look at Tim. “I thought you said you had a girlfriend at home,” the man said almost accusingly.

Tim shook his head. “I haven’t had a girlfriend for over two years. Jay and I’ve been dating for about three months now. Is that a problem, Captain?” His voice took on an edge there at the end.

Pierce’s mouth twisted into a wry grin. “No problem at all, Drake. Just correct me next time so I don’t make an ass out of myself in front of your friend.” He looked up at Jason and held out his hand. “Thomas Pierce.”

Jason shook it. “I prefer Jason Todd,” he replied.

Tim felt his shoulders relax slightly and winced as a sharp pain twisted through his upper back. “What’s going to happen to Black?” he asked.

Pierce started to shake his head as the scowl reappeared on his face. “It’s up to Internal Affairs at this point. Those were some pretty serious allegations he threw at you, though we both know he’s full of shit. You’re fully within your rights to have him charged with attempted assault. Sexual harassment too while you’re at it. That alone is going to keep him away from you for awhile.”

“No,” Tim shook his head. “The assault was an accident. If I hadn’t looked at Jason when I did, none of this would have happened.”

“No changing the past,” Pierce said, shaking his head again. “Get outta here and get something to eat. Make sure he drinks something besides coffee, Todd.” That last part was addressed to Jason, who smirked in reply.

“I do try."

The two men made small talk while Tim got his desk put back in order. He was lucky Black hadn’t broken his monitor or his tablet during his lunge across the desk. MacDonald handed him a stack of papers that she’d gathered up from the ground. “That’s quite the catch you have there,” she commented with a smile. “Does Malloy know? If not, you’ll need to keep him on a short leash around that cutie.”

Tim chuckled. “He knows. Has since the beginning actually. Though he doesn’t know Jason’s last name. Been trying to keep that part quiet.”

MacDonald snorted in a very unladylike fashion. “Not for long, honey. You know how the rumor mills work in this place.”

Tim let out an exasperated sigh. “I know. Hell, someone’s probably already texted him.”

“Probably,” she replied. “Listen, if you make it back here this afternoon, I’d really like you to come with me to the shelter. All joking aside, you’ve got a vibe to you that makes people comfortable. That’s a good thing to have in a place like that.”

“Unless I somehow end up on leave because of this mess, I’ll be back in about an hour.”

“See you then,” MacDonald said and turned back to her temporary desk.

“I’m ready,” Tim said, interrupting Jason and Captain Pierce as he tucked away his tablet into his messenger bag.

Jason handed Tim the coffee cup he’d brought in with him, sharing a small smile with Captain Pierce. “So I thought shit like this only happens on TV.”

“Welcome to my life,” Tim said, taking a sip from the cup and almost immediately choking at the taste. “What the hell is this?” he said in surprise, looking at the cup suspiciously as both men laugh.

“You drink too much coffee. Welcome to the world of Earl Gray.”

Tim glared at his boyfriend. “Ha-fucking-ha.” He slammed the cup on his desk and glared.

“Remember, Drake. No more coffee today,” Pierce said. “Nice to have met you, Jason.” He slapped Jason on the shoulder as he walked past the man and disappeared into his office.

“No more coffee, my ass,” Tim muttered. “How does he expect me to solve a case without caffeine?”

“There’s plenty of acceptable substitutes, Timmers. Now let’s go. Steph was doubled parked when I left her. Surprised she hasn’t marched in here yet looking for us.”

“Steph’s here?” Tim asked as he walked away from his desk. He heard Jason clear his throat loudly. “What?”

“Forgetting something?” The amusement was clear in his voice as Tim stalked back to his desk to grab the tea.

“I hate you sometimes,” he muttered as they walked out of the office.

***** 

Lunch actually involved going back to Tim’s apartment where Jason laid out the Greek platter he and Stephanie had picked up. Jason also took the time to put more of the salve on Tim’s bruised back.

“Oh, those’re some pretty colors you’re going to be turning soon, nerd wonder,” said Steph in an appreciative tone as she watched her brother work on Tim’s back from her spot in the bathroom doorway. “Jason, you must be proud.”

“Don’t you have something better to do?” Tim muttered, slightly embarrassed by the attention.

“Nope!” she replied cheerfully. “Now that the cat’s outta the bag, I’m going to get my fill of this before Dick and Bruce send it all to hell.”

Jason growled as he carefully dabbed the waxy mixture onto Tim’s upper back. “If I find out that they learn about us from _you_ , I will make your life even more miserable than I did when I first came back to Gotham.”

“Duly noted,” Stephanie said, ignoring the empty threat. “But you just outed yourselves at the station, so I’m curious to see how long before Bruce and Dick come pounding on your window. I’ll keep my mouth shut because I’m enjoying this. For some reason, watching the two of you be all cute and lovey-dovey is a bit of a turn on.”

“You just secretly like watching hot guys get it on, don’t you?” Tim asked, smirking as he glanced at Stephanie. Jason’s fingers felt amazing as he gently kneaded the salve into his back. If this is what he got to come home to everyday, then being outed was fine by him.

“I don’t know who you’re calling hot, but yeah. I won’t deny that watching is fun.” Steph rolled right along with the teasing like Tim knew she would.

“You’re blind if you don’t think Timmy here is hot,” Jason said, sneaking a kiss onto the side of Tim’s neck, nipping a little as he pulled back. He could feel a blush start to warm his skin.

“Not blind, but you don’t need your ego stroked anymore than it already is. You’ve already got a big head.”

“What can I say? I was born pretty,” Jason said with a cocky grin, stepping away from Tim to seal the container. “There you go, stalker. Should be good for the rest of the afternoon.”

Tim rolled his shoulders carefully. They were already feeling much better than this morning, even after his throwdown with Black. He shook his head slowly. “You two are something else, you know?” Listening to Jason and Steph banter back and forth was amusing, but he wasn’t sure he liked being at the center of it.

He made to exit the bathroom and Steph walked back into the bedroom, Jason trailing behind Tim. Deciding to change topics, he asked, “So where’s Bruce with the gurney? I’d like to see it sooner than later.”

Steph snorted as she walked out of the bedroom to the kitchen. “He’s putting it through every test he can think of. The river washed away any real viable evidence, but he’s trying. I think he’s going to make a gift of the gurney and his test results to Gordon later tonight or tomorrow night.”

Sitting down, Tim took in the sight of the large platter at the center of his small kitchen table and felt his mouth start watering again. He’d been sitting in the backseat of Steph’s car with it earlier and almost torn into it right there. “Just so long as Gordon doesn’t pull me from the case, that’s fine.”

“I doubt that’s going to happen, so stop worrying.”

Jason piled his plate high. “How’s the TV watching been going?”

Tim smiled, grabbing some gyro and souvlaki. “I found the van finally. He didn’t go into Burnley at all, but across the river. I’m tracking it through the Upper East Side right now.”

“Good job, stalker.”

Stephanie nodded in agreement, her mouth full. Swallowing, she asked, “So how else can we help?”

Sighing, Tim took a bite to stall and think. He hated to admit it, but it was getting harder to juggle this case with assistance coming in from the well-meaning Bats. Yes, he was learning things faster thanks to their help, but then he had to turn around and hide it all from his partner until he could make the ‘discovery’ on his own or lead Malloy into it. And now, thanks to Dick showing up last night with Jason, he now had to contend with a showdown with Malloy later today. He hoped he could get back to the precinct before his partner did so that he could escape with MacDonald to put off the inevitable a bit longer. He was surprised his phone hadn’t been lighting up with messages from the other man yet.

“Tim?” Steph asked, prodding at him gently with her fork.

“I don’t know,” Tim said and rubbed his face in frustration. “I’ve got a bead on the truck and I’ve got to go to the shelter when I get back. And now I’ve got all the crap from earlier to deal with too. The last thing I need is to be placed on administrative leave in the middle of what is quite possibly the biggest case I’ve yet to work on.”

“But if you’re placed on leave, you can just work it on your own, right?”

“No, Steph, that’s not how it works. I’d get into even more trouble if I tried to help, even on my own.”

“This is that balancing act we were just talkin’ about the other night,” Jason said thoughtfully, shredding a piece of pita. “You want what we can offer, but can’t because you’re bound by rules and regulations.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed and leaned back in his chair, ignoring the protest from his shoulders. “If I were down at Central, I’d be able to be more open about accepting your help, but here? Ha!” Tim let out a bitter laugh. “Driver and MacDonald would be taking over in a heartbeat.”

“But Commissioner Gordon already said this case is yours,” Stephanie said encouragingly. “He wouldn’t take it away just because you accepted some outside help.”

Tim shrugged and rubbed a tired hand through his messy hair. “He’s the police commissioner, of course he can. Besides, I can’t help but feel like the man is testing me. He knows about my connection to Bruce and you, and now Jason. I’m positive he knows who Batman is and is curious to see just how much of my work is me and how much of it is _his_.”

“So what you’re saying is we need to back off.” Stephanie didn’t sound too happy about that if the look on her face was anything to go by.

“Not in so many words, but yes. Of all of you, Jason’s involvement is the easiest to hide. He’s also got a slightly vested interest since he also helped out in July and Malloy’s met him a couple times. He knows we’ve had vigilante help already and is willing to lie through his teeth to keep it from being known. But just how far he’s willing to go, that I don’t know. I’m getting tired of lying to my partner.” He shot a glance over at Jason. The man nodded encouragingly.

Steph let out a disgruntled noise. “I’ll tell Bruce, but he’s not going to be happy. He’s been thrilled to bits about working on this case with you.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Somehow I doubt he’s actually said as much.”

“Of course not, he’s Bruce. But he put aside everything last night to go looking for the gurney. He almost snapped at Dick when he said he was going to take the sub out and look for it. I know he’ll back off if you say the word, but then I’m going to have to deal with his pouting for the next week.” Stephanie turned on her puppy dog eyes. “Do you really want me to deal with a pouting Bruce? You know how he can be,” she implored.

“Actually, I don’t,” Tim replied dryly. “He never pouted around me. And stop giving me that look, you know it only works on Dick and Bruce.”

“So you want us to back off?”

“Yes,” Tim nodded firmly, decision made. “If I need help, I’ll call. Which is what my agreement with Bruce and Babs and the rest of you has been for the last few years. That isn’t changing because of a single case.”

Stephanie sighed and looked at Jason, who gave her a level look back. No help from him, Tim was glad to see. “Fine,” she said, though her voice clearly indicated her displeasure. “Just don’t wait to call until you’re in over your head.”

Tim laughed. “I won’t. Besides, that’s a Bat trait and I know better.”

Jason snorted in laughter at that. “Right, stalker. Because you’re really so different from the rest of us. You just don’t wear a mask.”

Huffing a small laugh, Tim grabbed his plate and took it to the sink. “Thanks for getting lunch, it was good. But I’ve got to get back to work.”

“I’ll clean up,” Jason said, standing as well. “Go get dressed.”

Tim left the kitchen and quickly got his shirts back on. When he left the bedroom, Steph was waiting by the front door and Jason was still in the kitchen putting things away.

“Ready?” she asked, hoisting her large designer purse higher on her shoulder.

“No,” Tim said honestly. “All I want right now is to avoid Malloy. I’m not ready to deal with him yet.”

“Put on your big boy pants,” Jason shouted from the kitchen. “He was going to find out my last name sooner or later.”

“I was hoping for later.” With that parting shot, Tim and Steph walked out the door.

Stephanie was quiet as they walked out of the apartment building and got in her car. Tim had a feeling she wanted to say something more about the discussion from earlier, but was waiting until Jason wasn’t around to hear it. He didn’t have time or patience to beat around the bush right now. “Something still on your mind?” he asked as she pulled out onto the street.

“He’s right, you know.”

“About what?”

“About how what you do, you do without a mask. You make this city a better place without the need for a costume and a cape.” Steph sounded tired. “It…it gives me hope for my life when I finally put away my mask for good.”

Tim looked over at the young woman in surprise. “Given some thought about that?”

Steph snorted in a very unladylike manner that Alfred had never quite trained her out of. “Yeah. It’s just… I’m not going to be Batgirl forever, you know? Hell, I should be Batwoman or something equally kick-ass now. I’m 25, I think that’s hardly ‘girl’ anymore.”

This was new, but then again, Tim wasn’t around that much by his own choice. Perhaps it was time to change that policy, at least for Stephanie. She’d meant so much to him once upon a time and still did. It just took being locked in a car with her to remember it. “Do you want to become someone of your own making?”

The smile Steph wore was a mixture of tired, confused, and determined. Only she could put so many different emotions into one look. “I’m thinking of hanging it up altogether. See what kind of life I can make for myself as Stephanie Brown-Wayne.” She looked over at Tim, then focused back on the road. “Like you did.”

“I never had a costume to put away.”

“Yeah, that’s what makes this so goddamned hard.” She sighed, then rolled her neck, something making a loud pop as she did so.

“You’ve gotta do what’s best for you, Steph,” Tim said seriously. “Bruce’s mission is just that. His mission. He told me once that he never intended it to become Dick’s reason for being and I’m sure that’s extended to you, Jason, and Damian. Babs too for that matter.”

“And Cass?”

“She’s more like Bruce, I think. She never had a choice and now she’s making do the best she can.”

Steph nodded thoughtfully. “Thanks, Tim. I’ve missed this. Just being able to talk.” She glanced over at him.

Tim reached over and grabbed her hand from the gearshift, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go. “Me too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Josie MacDonald is clairvoyant. Her partner Marcus knows too, but they keep it quiet for obvious reasons. Don't believe me? Go read Gotham Central. I think I've encouraged the reading of that series quite a bit already. If you like my Casebook series, you'll love it.
> 
> Next week: Tim and MacDonald learn some very interesting information from a therapist while Malloy makes his own breakthrough. And Captain Pierce has some bad news for Tim...


	19. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a bit early as I've got a crap load to do tomorrow. Doubt anyone's going to mind!

Chapter Fifteen – Day Three (Afternoon)

Before Steph pulled up to the precinct, Tim took his phone out to call MacDonald. She answered after a couple of rings. “Hey, glad you called first.”

Tim smiled grimly. “Thought it best considering. Malloy back yet?”

“Yes. He’s parked himself at your desk and has declared he’s not moving until you come to drag his lily white ass away.”

“Somehow I doubt he would have included those adjectives,” Tim said with a laugh.

“Yeah, those were mine. Where do you want me to meet you? I assume you’re not coming up just yet.” Tim could hear some shuffling over the line.

“I’ll be out front in a minute. I drove today, so go out the back and I’ll pick you up.”

“See you in a few.” MacDonald hung up.

Tim tucked his phone away while Stephanie gave him the side eye. “Practicing avoidance techniques? And here you keep saying you’re not a Bat,” she teased.

“I’ve got a job to do and right now, I know Malloy will be focused on something else. He’s already left me five text messages because he knows I rarely check my voicemail. Once I’m at the shelter with MacDonald, I’ll let him know where I am. But I know I can only keep him at bay for so long before he’ll move on to more drastic measures.”

Steph raised a delicately arched eyebrow. “Dare I even ask?”

“He’ll try Jason next. And we can both imagine how that’ll go.”

“He has Jason’s number? What the hell, Tim? Your _partner_ has the phone number to the _Red Hood_?” Steph glared at the road instead of Tim as she darted through traffic.

“It’s not like he knows!” Tim replied defensively. “He’s had Jason’s personal number for as long as I have. Jason _gave_ it to him.”

What Stephanie said next was lost in the blaring honk of a horn as she pulled up in front of the precinct. “You two are insane, I hope you know that. Now get out and kick ass.”

“At least I get to wear jeans,” Tim retorted with a smile.

“And I’m super jealous of that fact though I swear to God I’m getting you a jacket or something with better padding for the next time you go running the rooftops. Now that I know you know how, there’s a game of rooftop tag in your future, nerd wonder.” She flashed him a bright smile, blue eyes shining from where she’s peeking over the rim of her sunglasses.

“You’re awesome.” Tim leaned in to give Steph a quick kiss on the cheek and got out of the car.

Instead of going up the front steps and into the building, Tim walked around to the back and the parking lot. He’d just unlocked his car when a voice spoke up from behind him.

“I saw you when I left the building, didn’t think you’d mind if I saved you a trip.” It was MacDonald.

“Not at all, Detective. Hop in.” Tim unlocked the passenger door too and slid in, tossing his messenger bag gently into the backseat and buckling his seatbelt. His back twinged slightly as he sat back against the driver’s seat.

MacDonald did the same with her bag and buckled up. She looked around at the clean interior. “I was expecting coffee cups.”

“A lot of people say that, but I prefer my travel mugs,” Tim replied as he backed out of his parking spot and navigated through the parking lot. “Less mess and easier to clean. You got the address to the shelter?”

The MCU detective rattled it off and told Tim the cross streets. “It’s not too far, maybe fifteen minutes in traffic.”

Tim pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. He hoped MacDonald wasn’t going to try and make small talk about what happened earlier. She was a good detective and Tim had nothing but respect for the MCU detectives working directly under Commissioner Gordon, but he didn’t _know_ her.

“So I pulled up everything I could find on Miranda Harris,” MacDonald said in her no-nonsense voice. She tucked one of her black braids behind her ear from where it had fallen from her loose ponytail. “She’s the youngest of the Harris kids, age 23. Graduated from GU with a degree in psychology last December. Not sure how she ended up at a shelter in New Town, but it’s far from the glitzy addresses her older brother and sister are sporting.”

“That’s interesting,” Tim said as he made a turn. “She’s got the low income paycheck while her siblings are flying high. Bet that makes for uncomfortable holiday dinner conversation.”

“One can only imagine,” MacDonald replied. “Harris has had a job as the resident therapist at the shelter for six months now. I’m going to assume she got some kind of certification because a BS in psychology doesn’t get you that far.”

Tim nodded in agreement. “What else?”

“Star student all through her school years. Accepted a full ride scholarship to GU after graduating high school. She was on track to finish spring before last, but took a semester off and graduated in the winter instead.” MacDonald paused.

He didn’t make her wait. “Something happened to her.” It wasn’t a question.

MacDonald continued. “Miranda Harris was the victim of a brutal sexual assault a month into her final semester at college. She was hospitalized for a good month before being released. Her attacker was never caught and she never got a good enough look at him to give the police a description.” Tim could feel the look she was giving him.

“Good God,” he groaned. “And now here we are coming to ask her questions about how her uncle could possibly be killing unconvicted rapists in the city. I feel like we found our motive. When did you find all this out?”

“Just before Black made an ass out of himself. I was talking it over with Marcus when we heard what was going on.” She gave him a concerned look. “Drake, I know we’ve only worked together a couple of times, but if you want to talk about what happened, I’ll listen. I know what it’s like to be…different in this world.”

Tim let his gaze linger on the dark chocolate brown of MacDonald’s skin for a moment, then caught her eyes. Being a female detective was hard enough, but a black female detective had to be even harder. He didn’t doubt for a second that she knew what she was talking about. “I appreciate it. I really do, so thank you. I’ve always been comfortable with my sexuality, but I’m also a firm believer that it’s nobody’s business who is or isn’t in my bed. I’m not ashamed of coming out. Malloy already knew.”

“So he said when he got back.” An amused smile appeared on MacDonald’s face. “Most people didn’t hear about you and Wayne dating. But you should have seen the look on his face when someone told him that Jason Wayne was there for the throwdown with Black. You could just _see_ him putting the pieces together. His eyes got so wide and I didn’t think that man could get any whiter. It was like he’d seen a ghost and the Holy Grail at the same time.”

Tim chuckled and shook his head. His partner tended towards the overdramatic sometimes, much like Dick. Those two had to have been quite the pair back in Bludhaven. “Malloy only knew Jason’s first name, not his last. I almost wish I was there for that.”

“If I’d have known, I’d have taken a picture for you.”

“Thanks, MacDonald.”

“Call me Josie,” MacDonald said. “Less of a mouthful.”

“Tim.”

***** 

Tim and Josie pulled up in front of the New Town Women’s Shelter a few minutes later. He sent Malloy a text telling him where he was and turned his phone on silent. As they entered the building, Josie took point as she and Tim had discussed earlier. Tim hung back, watching, and tried to make himself as unobtrusive as possible. The receptionist welcomed Josie warmly but made little effort to conceal her doubts about Tim, even when Josie introduced them both as GCPD detectives with an appointment to speak with Miranda Harris.

“I’ll let Miranda know you’re here.” The receptionist went through a door at the back of the room.

“If you think my being here hurts in anyway, just give me the signal and I’ll leave,” Tim said quietly.

Josie shook her head. “I will. But we’re here for Ms. Harris, not a twitchy receptionist. If she’s that nervous around men, being in the front may not be the best place for her.”

After a couple minutes, the receptionist walked back out, this time followed by a tall and beautiful woman. She was dressed professionally, but simply, in a pair of pressed khakis, a flower pattern blouse, and a pair of low-heeled pumps. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a twisted knot at the back of her head. As she got closer, Tim caught sight of a pair of arresting green eyes, as well as a subtly hidden scar that ran from her temple across her cheek to end at the corner of her mouth. If Tim didn’t know from her file that she was a year younger than him, he’d have pegged her as closer to 30, if not a bit over. She carried herself with a poise not often seen in younger adults.

“Detectives MacDonald and Drake?” she asked in a soft tone. “I’m Miranda Harris.”

Tim and Josie returned her greeting and both held out their hands, which were politely shaken. Tim noticed Harris had a firm grip the belied the almost delicate look of her hand.

“I understand you have some questions for me. If you would follow me please?”

The detectives were led through the same door, down a hallway, and into a small office. Though it was a small room, effort had been taken to make it appear welcoming, with soothing and warm pops of color placed here and there against an otherwise drab off-white wall. There was only one chair in front of the desk, so Tim took a position up against the wall by the door, making a point to keep his arms uncrossed and his stance open and relaxed. It was hell on his back though, leaning as he was. Josie took the seat in front of the desk while Miranda went and sat behind it.

“So, how can I help you, Detectives?”

“First off, I’d like to thank you for fitting us in on such short notice,” Josie said. “We’re here because of two recent murders. Both male and, other than the cause of death, have no common connections between them other than both have been accused of sexually assaulting women and were never prosecuted for the crime.”

Tim watched as Harris’s collected façade crumbled a bit at that information. She blinked rapidly and recovered quickly, but not before Tim got a look of _something_ underneath. “There is no shortage of victims like that here, Detective MacDonald, myself included.”

Josie nodded, sympathetic, but not patronizing. “I understand. Detective Drake and I are hoping you can help us with a couple of things. Based on the murder victims and the reported assaults, we’re hoping you may be able to provide us with a list of names that fall within the timeline we’re looking at. If we can identify enough women who are willing to speak with us, we’d like to see if there’s any common thread to their stories that can lead us to the men who did the assaults. This in turn may help lead us to the killer who’s been targeting these men.”

Harris grimaced and carefully folded her hands across her desk. “I see where you’re going with this from a legal standpoint, but you have to understand, from my perspective at least, what’s happened to these two men is a form of justice, however horrific it may be.”

“We completely agree with that assessment,” Tim decided to chime in. “But the legal system, while not completely perfect, is there for a reason. Whoever is killing these men is breaking the law by taking justice into their own hands, even though the cause, if we’re right, is warranted.” He ignored the clench in his gut at his hypocritical words and the memory that came with it. Black Mask. Jason. Staring down Batman as gunshots echo into the night from a warehouse down below.

“Why here?” Harris asked, eyes flickering between Tim and Josie.

“Because the first victim was found not too far from here,” Tim replied. He knew this area much better than Josie. “The other was down in the Bowery and we’ll be heading down there next.” That was a lie, but Harris didn’t need to know that. They were here to see _her_. Tim still wasn’t exactly sure what to think of the woman.

“Will you help us?” Josie asked as Harris looked thoughtfully into the air between him and Josie.

The woman’s gaze returned to Josie. She nodded firmly. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. We need to be better, stronger, than the men who stole a part of ourselves from us. I work with all kinds of women and counsel them so that they can move past what happened and learn to embrace themselves again. That they survived and there’s no shame in that.” Harris unclenched her hands and raised a finger to trace the faint scar on her face. “The whole reason I’m even here is because of the wonderful therapist I saw after my own attack. She inspired me to become so much more than what my family and I had planned.”

_Jackpot._ Josie picked up on it too. “So being a counselor at a shelter wasn’t what you were going to do?”

Harris shook her head ruefully. “No. I’m from a pretty well to do family here in Gotham. Not to the point where we make the society pages, but my uncle’s a renowned surgeon at Gotham General, Dad’s a corporate lawyer, and my older brother and sister are both in law and medicine as well. I was going to be a psychiatrist, had all the right internships, and grades, and grad school all lined up when my life took a 180. I changed after what happened to me and I feel for the better. I’m making a difference here in a way I wouldn’t have if I stuck to the original plan. This may not be prime real estate,” Harris gestured to the room around them, “but I’m much happier where I’m at.”

“And what did your family think of that?” Josie asked carefully.

“Not happy,” Harris said with a small chuckle. “The only people who got it were my mom and my sister. Dad, my brother, and my uncle all think I’m throwing my life away. They just don’t get it. There’s so much more to life than just a big paycheck. While I despise what happened to me, in a way I’m grateful as it opened my eyes to what I was missing.”

Tim decided the woman in front of them was the genuine article; someone who truly wanted to help in whatever way she could and had found her niche to do so. He was also pretty positive Miranda was not the one feeding information to her uncle. While she may have ready access to any number of victims and their stories, she at least appeared to lack the drive to go out and hunt down each attacker and mutilate them before killing them. He wished he could catch Josie’s eye from here as there was one more question he wanted to ask and wasn’t sure if she’d do it or if he needed to speak up.

“Here’s the timeline we’re looking at,” Josie said, laying out a piece of paper from the folder she’d been carrying. “I don’t want to cross any confidentiality agreements you have with your patients, but if you recall anyone whose assaults fall between these dates, would you please reach out to them and see if they’re willing to speak with us? My number and Drake’s number are both here for you to provide as well. If you need cards, we can get those for you to hand out.”

Harris took a look at the dates and her expression tightened again. “I’ll see what I can do. If you still have some time though, you can start with me.” Her gaze hardened as she looked back up at Josie and Tim. “My assault is within your timeline.”

Tim inwardly crowed in delight. _Well played._

***** 

An hour later, the detectives were sitting in Tim’s car. He hadn’t pulled out into traffic yet. Both were silent, absorbing what Miranda Harris told them. Her story was horrific and incredible at the same time.

Josie finally broke the silence. “I’m not sure how much experience you have with cases like hers, but I want to say her attacker was someone she knew. There’s an element of rage to her attack that most assaults just don’t have. The way she was sliced up, that cut on her face…not the usual MO for a random attack.”

“I know,” Tim said slowly, fingers already dancing on his tablet as he searched for Harris’s police report.

“There are two men in the cold cases who were killed with some vicious slicing that did have reported assaults from the right time frame,” Josie said thoughtfully, tapping a finger over her bottom lip as she recalled the files she’d been working on for the last two days. “They were killed three and five months after Harris was hospitalized. The other two you found were months before. None of the DNA samples on file match though; Miranda’s case is completely cold.”

“The cuts though…I’m more convinced than ever now that Harris is our zero victim. It was her attack that caused our killer to go after these other men when they couldn’t immediately track down who hurt her; probably out some misplaced belief they’d done it, even though the DNA didn’t match up. Some of Whitaker’s assaults were around the time of Harris’s attack. But Davis’s weren’t. He was still locked up.” Tim frowned as the pieces still weren’t quite fitting together yet. They were close though, he knew it.

The pieces start to slowly put themselves together in Tim’s mind. Josie wasn’t Malloy, but she was just as good at letting him talk it out. “So let’s say that someone in Harris’s immediate family took their rage and frustration and did something about it. Both her dad and her brother, even at that time, had connections enough to look up information on unconvicted rapists who were active around the time of the assault. They weren’t in prison, so it was easy enough to find them, lure them somewhere, and kill them, slicing them up in a similar way to how Harris was. But why the long gap...?” Tim trailed off, thinking furiously.

“The assault was February of last year. The most recent cold case was in July of last year.”

July…the same month Whitaker was killed. “Do you remember the date that guy was found?”

“July 12. ME approximated his death to have occurred on July 11 though by the time he was found. Dumped in an alley, sliced to shreds, almost no blood left in the body.”

“Whitaker was found in July too.”

Josie’s eyes narrowed. “That can’t be a coincidence,” she said doubtfully.

Tim started the car as he shook his head. “I doubt it. There’s a year gap though that needs to be accounted for. I wonder what Martin Schumacher was doing during that time.” He pulled out into traffic.

“You think he’s our killer? It certainly fits. He’s got the medical knowledge and the scalpel skills to be our guy. And the brother at the prosecutor’s office has the access to the files they would need to put a list together…” It was Josie’s turn to trail off as she turned in her seat to face Tim with an incredulous look on her face. “Oh my god, I bet there’s a list. That’s the gap. They needed to get the brother, Aidan, in place to get the information they needed. Once he was established, they started looking into men who fit their profile of who attacked Miranda.”

“Even without a DNA match? And how does Davis fit in?”

“Perhaps it’s evolved from just avenging Miranda,” Josie said excitedly. “Davis, while he doesn’t fit the timeline, fits the rest of the profile. They’re avenging all assault victims, not just her."

“And what started as vengeance has changed into a purge of all men with a history of unprosecuted assault.” Tim was interrupted by his phone ringing with the ringtone he’d selected specifically for Malloy; it was similar to the annoying song he’d picked for Dick but had more of a guitar riff to it than synthesized beats. He’d turned the ringer back on when they left the shelter. Tim answered it, putting it on speaker. “Hey partner,” he drawled. “You’re on speaker. Josie and I are heading back to the station now.”

“About damn time!” Malloy shouted. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Rookie, but that’s gonna to have to wait. Guess what I found while you’ve been traipsing about the city?”

“Nightwing’s secret identity?”

There was a long pause before Malloy replied. “I wish,” he grumbled. “I’ll settle for a moving van that got dropped off at a depot near Grant Park. I finished the traffic camera search for you. Up for another car ride when you get back?”

Tim and Josie shared another look, both excited by the news. “That’s great news,” Josie said. “We’ve got quite the story too.”

“We need to talk first about what Josie and I found out from Miranda Harris. Is Driver there?”

“Yeah, he’s right next to me.”

“See if you can snag a meeting room and get the captain. We’ll be back in 10.”

Malloy made an affirmative noise and hung up.

Tim grinned. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

***** 

Back at the precinct, Tim and Josie found Malloy, Driver, and Captain Pierce in a small conference room just off the main room. Everyone looked smug; pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place.

“Drake, MacDonald, what have you found? I know Malloy’s found the truck,” Captain Pierce started out, shifting in the chair at one end of the oblong table.

“I think we need to focus on Schumacher,” Tim replied, taking a seat next to Malloy while Josie joined Driver on the other side of the table. “Here’s what we got.” He summarized what he and Josie learned from Miranda, with Josie interjecting or elaborating on a few points as needed.

Malloy let out a low whistle and Driver nodded approvingly. “That’s quite the woman,” Driver said. “To completely change track like that and do something in the face of all expectations. Not many people can do that.”

Tim bit back a comment. Driver didn’t know his background. “It’s come at a cost,” he said instead, bringing up her case file on his tablet. “She’s almost completely ostracized from her family; only real contact is with her mom and older sister, the aspiring surgeon. Harris is not making something of herself, which seems to be the family motto. But she’s happy and feels like she’s making a difference in her own way.” He handed the tablet to Malloy.

“So what’s your theory now?” Pierce asked, looking over Malloy’s shoulder at the file.

Tim and Josie exchanged a look and she nodded, giving Tim the go ahead. “We think Schumacher, with the help of Aidan Harris, Miranda’s brother, are acting as some kind avenging angels for rape victims whose assaulters haven’t made it behind bars for their crimes. There were two men who were killed within a few months of Miranda’s assault where they were sliced to shreds, very similar to how Miranda was sliced up in her attack.”

“So the slicing is done for a reason,” Malloy interrupted. “It’s payback for what was done to Harris.”

“Right,” Josie replied. “And if you got a look at her face before the attack, it’s pretty obvious why. She’s quite the beauty, even now.”

“I’ll say,” agreed Driver, sounding impressed. He’d gotten up and was reading over Malloy’s other shoulder.

“Anyways,” Tim continued. “Those first killings were full of rage and revenge, but neither man turned out to be the one they were looking for. DNA doesn’t lie. Time passes and Aidan Harris establishes himself more firmly as an up and coming young prosecutor, eventually getting himself assigned to repeat felony offenders. He’s got access to the criminal files on just about everyone in Blackgate and other correctional facilities in the area. We think he passed on Roger Whitaker’s name to his uncle, along with his release date. Schumacher then took care of the rest. Ditto with Davis. And, if we are right, then there will be another one, possibly all lined up and ready to go.”

“We believe they think they’ll eventually get the right man,” Josie finished. “Miranda’s file does contain a DNA sample of the man who assaulted her. If that person ever strikes again and is entered into the system, I have a feeling Harris and Schumacher will go after him with everything they’ve got.”

“Sounds like quite the formidable team,” Pierce said. “But this is all conjecture at this point, right?”

Tim nodded. “That’s why we need proof.” He looked over at Malloy. “Up for a drive down to Grant Park?”

Malloy’s light blue eyes looked sharply at Tim. “Just say when.”

Pierce nodded and stood up. “MacDonald, Driver, what about those other cold cases? Any other ones we could possibly tie to Schumacher?”

“We’ve identified two, possibly three, cases that could be the precursors to the Whitaker and Davis murders.” Josie reached into her bag and pulled out her laptop. “The most recent ones are from three and five months after Harris’s assault, but there were a few older ones that fit the MO. But in light of what we’ve learned, I’m not sure if they belong now. Perhaps we’ll find out for sure when we bring Schumacher in for questioning.”

While Josie opened up her notes, Driver took over. “It’s the cutting method that really ties them all together. If I had to hazard a guess, he’s been using a scalpel since day one. The autopsy photos are all pretty grim. The first victim had to have bled out in a minutes; there were cuts to the carotid and femoral arteries, not to mention the wrists. All the others are similar, but the most recent guy was from a year ago July. He’s the closest to Whitaker and Davis, but without the mutilation. It’s like somewhere in the last year, the good doctor took a turn for the dramatic.”

Josie set her laptop on the table for Tim and Malloy to look at. “If he hadn’t, we may never have been able to connect these murders to the same guy. The other two men were dumped in alleys in Chinatown and the Hill, neither in the way your two were displayed. They were chalked up to some kind of gang or mob killing. The victims were also found in their clothes, testicles intact.” All the men at the table made a grim face at that.

“I wonder if Schumacher has always been using the moving trucks, even with the older victims, assuming those were him too,” Tim thought out loud. “Perhaps he had some kind of a mobile unit set up, then sprayed out the back of the truck when he was done. It wouldn’t be impossible.”

“Over the top though,” Malloy chimed in.

“This whole thing is over the top. It’s like something out of a crime drama on TV,” he replied.

“Then perhaps the doctor discovered the joys of binge-watching Netflix in the intervening months.” Driver shook his head. “Stranger things have happened.”

The three detectives and the captain all shot him a dirty look. “Don’t jinx it,” Josie said sharply. “This is _Gotham_.”

“What about the third case, the one you’re not sure about?” Tim asked, scrolling down to view the notes.

“It’s an older case,” she replied. “Almost 20 years in the cold file. The victim died of multiple stab wounds to the torso, had his pecker sliced up, but the parting shot was the slices on the neck to the carotid. This was a real crime of passion, there were over 30 stab wounds on the man, all made from a small but extremely sharp blade.”

“The reason why it’s on the list is because the victim had an MO of unprosecuted rape charges and was killed by some kind of stabbing.” Tim read through the notes. The two detectives were very thorough. This was not one of the original cases he’d found, but then again, he hadn’t been looking quite that far back.

Driver and Josie exchanged glances before Driver spoke up. “We think this is victim number one. The one who started it all. This guy is the one who did _something_ to someone Schumacher knew.”

The man in question was Michael Johansen. At the time of the killing, he’d been 62, by far the oldest of the victims. He was an immigrant to the US from the Netherlands but was a naturalized citizen for almost 30 years. He’d been a doctor, specializing in gynecology and obstetrics. Tim shuddered.

Pierce picked up on Tim’s reaction. “God, if he is connected, then who knows how many victims could be out there?”

The MCU detectives nodded in agreement. “We both agreed we’re going to reopen this particular murder case, whether it’s tied to Schumacher or not. This guy could be one of the biggest serial rapists this city’s ever seen.” Josie’s voice was hard and her glare fierce.

“If you need help, let us know,” Tim said, knowing he was speaking for Malloy on this too, even as the other man nodded in agreement. “We’re glad to offer whatever assistance we can.”

“Thanks,” Driver said. “We might just do that.” For once, his voice sounded sincere when he spoke of working with Tim and Malloy again.

“Sounds like we’ve all got our action plans, at least for now,” Pierce said, nodding in approval. “Drake and Malloy, get down to Grant Park. Driver and MacDonald, let’s see if we can get a more precise timeline for Schumacher and see what he’s been up to in the last year. Aidan Harris too.” Getting up along with everyone else, Tim handed the laptop back to Josie and accepted his tablet back from Malloy. “Drake, a moment if you would,” Pierce asked.

Malloy followed Driver and MacDonald out of the room. “I’ll be at your desk,” he said and closed the door, leaving Tim alone with Captain Pierce.

He took a deep breath and faced his captain. His stomach was clenching tightly. “This about Black?” he asked, forcing himself to stay calm.

“Yeah, but I’ll make it quick. As you know, I had to go Internal Affairs about what happened with Black this afternoon. He’s been suspended for the time being and IA has to open an investigation into you about when you got your badge and came to this department.” Pierce looked tired, and old, so much more than he usually did. “I’m sorry, kid. I know my nose is clean in this and so is yours, but that’s just how it goes.”

Tim sighed, a wave of exhaustion rushing through him. His shoulders took that moment to protest the tensing of his muscles. “What about me? Shouldn’t I also be suspended pending an investigation like this?”

“Technically, yes. But I stressed the importance of the case you and Malloy are on and that you’re close to nailing the bastard to the wall. I got you a few days, but that’s the best I could do. Come Monday, you’re suspended too."

“Goddammit,” Tim cursed, slamming his fist into the table. The pain gave him something else to focus on. This could not come at a worse time. They were _so close_.

“I’m sorry, Drake, but that’s the best I could do. I could go to Gordon if needed, but let’s see how the next few days play out,” Pierce said, fire reigniting in his eyes. “You and Malloy are doing some of the best detective work I’ve seen in quite a while. If I’m not asking for a search warrant of Schumacher’s house by tomorrow morning, then I’ll be sorely disappointed.”

Tim let himself stand a bit straighter at those words. “If you aren’t, then I’ll gladly let you send the case to Central.”

“Let’s hope I don’t have to.” With that, Pierce clapped him lightly on the shoulder and walked out of the room.

Tim told himself his wince at the slight touch was from his pending suspension and not the pain in his back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raise your hand if you thought Tim and Malloy were going to have their chat this chapter. ;)
> 
> Next week: Tim finds the Gotham skyline very uninspiring while trying to have the TALK with Malloy. And Jason gets to do something he's been wanting to do with Tim for a very long time...
> 
> The third chapter of A Different Point of View will be posted next week as well, so if you're not up to speed there, then you're missing out. :D


	20. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this a day early as I will be traveling over the next few days.

Chapter 16 – Day Three (Late Afternoon and Early Evening)

Tim took a deep breath as he walked out of the conference room and across the bullpen to his desk where Malloy was waiting. Being told that he was going to be suspended over something where he’d done _nothing_ wrong pissed him off and was leaving him feeling shaken at the same time. He wanted to punch something, hard, and if Cassius Black so much as showed his face around Tim, he was going to, regardless of the outcome.

It didn’t help that he had a lot of things to hide, but his work in the last several months had been impeccable and completely his own, with the exception of the Red Hood’s information back in July. Only Malloy knew about that.

He trusted Malloy to keep his mouth shut about that. Right? His partner was bound to be one of the first people IA would speak with.

Thinking furiously as he walked, Tim shot the doubt down. No, his partner would not say a word. He had just as much to lose if it got out he’d also accepted help from Nightwing and the Red Hood. He only hoped jumping rooftops in Gotham could be chalked up to his younger years and learning a few things from Dick when he lived at the Manor. A lot of people practiced parkour or free-running these days. Perhaps he should have an episode or two of _Ninja Warrior_ up on his phone for proof.

Malloy was leaning against the desk, waiting for Tim. “You ready?” he asked, uncrossing his arms.

“Yeah, let me get a water bottle and we can go.”

“Fine. I’ll drive. You get to talk.”

“About?” Tim asked carefully.

“I can think of a number of things, but right now, I’ll settle for Jason _Wayne_.” The emphasis Malloy put on Jason’s last name reminded Tim someone had told his partner what he missed earlier.

“You know most of it,” he said quietly, locking his computer and picking up his bag.

“Do I?” The look Malloy shot Tim told him all he needed to know. Malloy was pissed and wasn’t letting Tim out of it this time.

“Yes, you do actually,” Tim retorted.

“Why do I not believe you? Now let’s go before someone else wants to talk to you.”

“Story of my fucking life today,” Tim muttered as he followed his partner out of the office.

*****

Malloy gave Tim a few minutes to settle into the black leather seats of his car, shifting around to find a spot where the seatbelt didn’t dig in uncomfortably. “So…” he said, giving Tim a side eye as he finally settled down. “I heard the most interesting story when I got back to the station earlier.”

Tim sighed. He knew this was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier. He was good at handling difficult conversations and avoiding them most of the time, but he didn’t want to entirely lie his way through this one. His partner was smart so he needed to keep on his toes. “About Black making the biggest possible ass out of himself by attacking me in front of most of the dayshift?”

“Yeah, that was pretty messed up, but that’s not what I thought was _more_ interesting and you know it. Black’s an ass every day and we all knew the fucker was going to crack eventually.”

Picking at his jeans, Tim glanced at his partner. Perhaps if he tried the sympathy card next…“We haven’t even told his family we’re dating.”

Malloy’s shoulders slumped as he sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it, Rookie, but you always manage to take the wind out of my righteous indignation.”

“Sorry?” Tim made it sound like a question even though he was quietly relieved that had worked.

“Don’t be. But seriously, you two haven’t said anything to anyone? I didn’t think you were so closeted.”

“It’s complicated,” Tim said. “His sister, Stephanie, just found out yesterday actually.”

Malloy’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He was quiet for a moment before he said anything. “Damn, that’s right. I forgot you used to date her. Bet that went over well.”

Tim shrugged, ignoring the ache in his shoulders. _You have no idea._ “Better than I expected. It was a long time ago, but still…”

“Did she know? That you’re bi, I mean?”

“Yeah. She helped me figure it out actually.” He would be forever grateful to Stephanie for that.

“Then I like her already.” Malloy nodded firmly as he turned right and started heading south. The easiest way across town was the Aparo Expressway down the east side of Gotham.

Something Malloy said was bugging Tim. Closeted. He didn’t think of himself as closeted, just private. He and Jason were hiding their relationship from his family because they were afraid of them intruding on their life. They still hadn’t come out to his parents either, even though Tim wanted to. And at work…so many times he could have corrected Captain Pierce asking how his home life was going with his girlfriend and didn’t.

Tim nodded slowly, his thoughts coming together to form a decision. Before he could do anything though, he needed to talk to Jason. It was time, he decided. No more evasion.

“You okay?” Malloy asked, breaking Tim out of his thoughts.

“Just realizing I’m being a dumbass. I’ve got to talk to Jason. It’s time we stop hiding from everyone. Thanks for pointing that out.”

“Not sure exactly what I said, but I’ll take it. What I really want to know is why you introduced Jason to me as one of your irregulars. You and he have both implied he has a spotty record, even recently. He’s Jason fucking Wayne, what the hell is he doing?” The look Malloy shot Tim this time was concerned. Very concerned.

Tim glanced out the window of the moving car, hoping the Gotham skyline would inspire some kind of answer. All he saw was a hazy cloud over the city. He sighed again. This was the tricky part. “Jason has a juvie record for petty theft, jacking tires, and stealing cars. That’s how he met Bruce actually. Got caught stealing the tires of his car when Bruce parked it somewhere he shouldn’t have.” Tim wished he could have been there that night, taking pictures of the first meeting between a young Jason Todd and Batman. But it was one of the rare times his parents were in town and he hadn’t wanted to miss a moment of it.

“And as an adult?” Malloy prodded, trying to keep Tim talking.

“Did you read his story in the papers? Everyone thought he was dead.” It was an evasion tactic, but a relevant one. Jason didn’t have to work, not with the kickbacks he still received by being one of the top drug lords in the city. Tim got Jason’s reasoning, he really did, but the one discussion about it after Jason came back from running away still didn’t make him like it.

His partner looked like he wanted to shake him. “I read the papers. I want to hear it from _you_.”

Tim gave his partner a dirty look. He really wasn’t going to make this easy. “Jay doesn’t remember much of the first few years. When he finally ‘woke up’, he found himself with some pretty bad people. He did what he had to in order to survive. He worked his way through the Middle East and up into Europe. No one believed him when he said he was Jason Wayne at the US Embassies. Finally made it across the Atlantic and into the US where he made it to Gotham. He told me once that even if Bruce didn’t believe him, then at least he was home.”

That was a partial truth. Jason had a complicated love/hate relationship with Gotham, but it was home. “He and Bruce have always had an explosive relationship, so Jason doesn’t live at the Manor. He prefers living where’s he the most comfortable, which happens to be the Bowery at the moment. He grew up in Crime Alley and the Bowery. For him, it’s home.”

“That still doesn’t tell me what he’s been up to since he got back. He took me to a garage in the Bowery when we went out the night you nailed Sinclair.” Malloy shook his head at the memory. “Told me there were no dead bodies and no drugs. I still wonder what I’d find if I went back with a search warrant.”

That was news to Tim. He didn’t know the man kept a garage or that his partner had been there. What on earth was Jason thinking? Mentally cursing his boyfriend, he scrambled. “Not sure what you’d find either. I’m guessing the garage is below his apartment; he likes to tinker with cars and motorcycles.”

“Have you even been there?”

Tim opened his mouth and quickly closed it, thinking hard. He and Jason were going to have a long _talk_ about that night so that their stories matched. “No, I haven’t. Have a feeling I’m going to soon.”

“I get that you don’t want to tell me what Jason’s up to. I do.” Malloy shot Tim another very concerned look at Tim as he tried to navigate traffic. “But even I know that Jason is much, _much_ , smarter than the average car thief or drug runner. Rookie, I really don’t want to have to arrest Jason Wayne. Or you. Please tell me I’m not going to have to.”

_Goddammit all to fucking hell._ If Tim has his way, Jason and Malloy are never crossing paths _again._ Returning the look with a stern one of his own, Tim shook his head. “If I catch him doing anything illegal in front of me, then I’ll bring him in myself.”

He wasn’t sure what to make of the look that appeared on his partner’s face at that statement. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but was holding back. It was unusual to say the least; Malloy was always very vocal with his thoughts, especially when he was _concerned_. It kind of reminded him of Dick when he took it in his head to try and play big brother to Tim. So far though, Malloy hadn’t asked anything completely out of left field, but the man hadn’t even brought up last night yet. And with traffic the way it was, there would be plenty of time for him to do so.

Finally, Malloy seemed to make up his mind and gave Tim a smirk. “So when Jason gives me advice about my car alarm, I should probably listen?”

Shaking his head and chuckling, Tim turned back to the skyline. He was safe for now. “Yes."

“But I thought you said he’s reforming. I can’t imagine Dick letting this go on for so long.”

Damn, but Tim had almost forgotten how well Malloy knew Dick, what with everything else that happened today. “Extended stay with his family while that busted leg of his healed,” he quickly explained. “Dick had a chance to work his magic. And I’m glad he did. Things are much better between Jason and Bruce. They can at least be in the same room now without screaming at each other,” he finished dryly, making a point to quirk his lips in a wry smile. His birthday party was proof of that, but he still thought both of them had been on their best behavior because of his parents being there too.

The look Malloy gave Tim told him that he wasn’t completely convinced, but he didn’t push further. “So on to the next part of the grilling.” A grin appeared on the blonde man’s face as the car started slowing down. The traffic going across the Sprang Bridge was always a bitch unless it was the middle of the night.

Tim decided it was time he got a leg up on his partner. “I learned parkour from Dick,” he said with an amused smile.

“Goddammit, Tim!” Malloy thumped the steering wheel in frustration. “You did that on purpose!”

“This time, yes,” he replied, grinning broadly. “Did you know Dick grew up in the circus? He was an acrobat. When I lived with Bruce, I learned about parkour and free running. I was 13 and Wayne Manor was my jungle gym thanks to him.” That was safe enough to discuss. Dick was always open about his roots and proud of his upbringing.

“So how did Nightwing know you could run across roofs like the rest of the crazies?” The look Malloy shot his partner this time was full of questions, just like Tim expected.

He chuckled. “I was on my beat for about a year when I caught a drug deal going down right in front of me. The asshole thought he could get away by climbing a fire escape and making a run for it on the rooftop. While he took the ladders, I took the outside route. Beat him to the top and cuffed him just as he got level with the roof.” The story rolled easily off his tongue. Something like this had happened, just not with the ending his partner was expecting. The official report from that night was true, no glossed over vigilante involvement. It was easy enough to add them for his partner’s entertainment.

Malloy started shaking his head, apparently seeing where Tim was going with this. “Let me guess, Nightwing was at the top already?”

“Yeah, him and Robin. This guy was someone they’d been planning on shaking down that night for information. I shocked the hell out of them when I came flying up the fire escape a leap ahead of the dealer.”

The laugh that Malloy let out was loud and deafening. “Oh my god, seriously? Bet they didn’t think Gotham cops were able to do that!”

“As far as I know, I’m the only one.” He thought back to the bet he’d made with Damian back in March. The young man had not found another cop of the force with Tim’s skills, saving Tim from his return to the Batcave for the grueling training course they had down there. He was certain that given enough time, he could beat it. It wouldn’t be pretty, but he could do it.

“Okay, so I gotta ask, what was it like running across the roofs last night with the Red Hood?”

“It was…interesting. He knew I could keep up with him, but I swear he was going slower than I thought he would go.” Tim knew that for fact, but his partner didn’t need to know.

“And going up that zip line with him?”

Tim shot his partner a curious look. This wasn’t quite how he expected Malloy’s questions to go about last night. The man was throwing him more curveballs than he’d thought. “I had to hold on to the Red Hood. What do you think?”

The look his partner shot him in return was telling in that Malloy wasn’t buying what Tim was trying to sell. “I think you’re a lot more comfortable with the vigilantes than you let on back in July. I mean, I know Nightwing, I’ve met him before and he’s a good guy. But he didn’t think twice about separating us when he jumped off the roof with me. When we hit the ground, I started tearing into him for leaving you up there with the Red Hood. He just smiled and said he wasn’t worried about the two of you so why should I be? And when we left Barnaby’s apartment last night, you came out last. I get that Nightwing and Red Hood are probably friends or brothers or something, but you? They _like_ you. As in _both of them_. Tim, the _Red Hood_ likes you. What the hell?” Malloy was almost shouting, glaring at Tim as he punched the steering wheel for emphasis.

Tim wanted to punch Dick in the face. The next time he saw him, he was going to. Hard. He looked at Malloy. The man was focused on the now moving traffic, but was stealing careful glances over at Tim the longer he stayed quiet. How much did he suspect? The man wasn’t stupid, for all that he liked to play the dumb blonde act. He was very insightful and _smart_. Jason had told him about their little outing back in July (though apparently not all of it as this was the first he’d heard about Jason’s garage). He didn’t think he’d slipped up, but that was before Malloy knew Jason’s last name. A lot could be explained by Jason’s public resurrection story, but Tim knew his partner. Given the right clue, he’d put it all together. He needed to defuse this, fast.

“I may have had more dealings with them than I let on,” Tim finally settled on saying. It was a safe statement, relatively speaking.

“No shit, Sherlock. Nightwing, I get. Batgirl, I get. Robin, the fucking punk, I get. Even Batman. But Red Hood? God, Tim, the man’s a killer. Mass decapitations ring a bell?”

“Yes, it does,” Tim replied testily. “That was before I was a cop though. So why does Batman and the others leave him to his own devices when they could be bringing him in?” He sighed a bit dramatically, trying to play up that he was making up his mind about something. “I’m going to tell you something I’ve suspected for years. That this is why Batman and the others don’t take care of him.”

God, he hated this. Telling the truth with a good heaping helping of _lies_ mixed in was exhausting. He wished he could tell Malloy everything, but the man was too good a cop to not go all the way to the top with something like this, crush or no crush on Nightwing. Though what Jim Gordon would do when confronted with something he likely already knew would be interesting to see.

“For you to suspect it, it’s probably gospel.”

“Funny. I think Red Hood is a former Robin.” It wasn’t too much of a risk to say this. It gave nothing away, but explained so much at the same time.

Malloy’s eyes grew wide as he let out a low whistle. “Whoa. Okay, I did not see that coming. Which one? I did some homework on the vigilantes when I first came to Gotham after the Crisis. There were two, then the kid appeared after the girl Robin disappeared.”

“There were actually four total,” Tim replied. “The first Robin became Nightwing and a new kid took over. I’m not sure what happened to him, but then a few years later the girl Robin appeared. Then the brat we all know and love.”

“So you think Robin Number Two is the Red Hood.”

Tim shrugged again. His shoulders were starting to ache the longer he sat in the car, though whether it was stress or the uncomfortable car seat, he wasn’t certain. “It makes sense, at least in my head. Why else would Batman leave him be? He was nuts when he first came to Gotham, but seems to have settled down in the last few years or so.”

Malloy nodded slowly, lost in his own train of thought. “It makes sense, more so than any theory I’ve heard tossed around the office or the bar. And you’re right, he really has changed his MO the last few years. Hard to complain about a guy who took down one of the worst pedophiles this town has ever seen.” He was referring to a known Red Hood kill from about 15 months ago, where the police, upon further investigation into the man, had discovered a horrifying trove of child pornography and almost half a dozen photo albums of his own exploits. The GCPD didn’t even make a cursory attempt at going after Red Hood for that particular murder.

“I know, right? I just don’t want you thinking I’m all buddy buddy with these guys. I’m not. But they really do help the city in their own way.” Lies. Almost every word that just came out of his mouth was a lie. He could deny it all he wanted but they were his family. And he’d do everything he could to protect them.

“Yeah, I get it. I was just surprised last night is all.”

Tim snorted. He was tired of this conversation. It was time to move on to more entertaining topics. “I’m more surprised you didn’t try to hit on Nightwing. That was almost a damsel in distress scream I heard last night when you were going off the roof. Even Hood was laughing at you.”

Malloy shook his head, wry amusement on his face. “Now there’s a sight I’d pay to see. The Red Hood laughing.”

“Stop avoiding the question. Did you try to hit on Nightwing at all?”

“Of course I tried!” Malloy cried out. “What kind of hot blooded gay man would I be if I didn’t? Rookie, Tim…I touched it.” He sounded in absolute awe.

It took Tim a moment to realize what his partner was saying before he started cracking up. “Oh my god, you touched Nightwing’s ass? Was that why you were so red last night?”

Malloy nodded quickly. “ _Best. Night. Ever_.”

***** 

The desk clerk at the moving company took one look at Malloy’s and Tim’s badges and ran to get his manager, almost tripping over his own feet in his dash to the back room.

“I think we scared the kid,” Tim commented dryly.

“It’s the small things in life,” Malloy replied, looking pleased with himself as the kid banged his shoulder against the doorframe. It didn’t even phase him as he almost sprinted through the door.

When the manager came out, both detectives put on their charming and harmless smiles. Tim’s was very similar to his high society smile, but a little less vapid. But this was Gotham and true Gothamites saw right through it. The manager’s name badge said Danni and she looked very unimpressed when she saw the badges. The clerk was peeking out the backroom door and she looked even more unimpressed at him too when she ordered him back out to the front and led the detectives through the big backroom to her office. This was a woman who didn’t take shit from anyone.

“How can I help you, detectives?” Danni asked as she sat behind her desk, her long brown hair pulled back into a tight and efficient bun at the base of her neck. She looked to be in her mid thirties, and wore what appeared to be the standard uniform for the company, a pair of khakis with some dust smears on the knees and a red polo shirt emblazoned with the company logo.

Like they always did when starting a line of questioning, Malloy took point. People rarely took Tim seriously when he went first. He blamed his age. “We’re here about a moving truck that was rented out about four or five days ago. A 12-foot box truck with a dinosaur on the side. It was returned two nights ago, about 230 or 3 in the morning.”

Danni’s eyes narrowed. “A truck was brought back the other night about that time. Not usual considering the area, but we’ve a drop box to return the keys. What’s going on?”

“We’re looking for a truck in conjunction with a murder. We believe the truck was used to transport the victim.”

That got a reaction from the woman. “Shit,” she said vehemently and turned to her computer, starting to type and click around. “I know this is Gotham and crap like this happens every day, but I didn’t think my depot would be involved in this kind of thing.”

Danni paused finally and read the screen. Whatever she saw made her nod satisfactorily. “The truck’s still here. It’s slated to go out tomorrow morning, but we can change that easily.”

Tim and Malloy exchanged grins. “I’ll call Captain Pierce and get CSI out here,” he stood up to pull his phone out of his pocket.

Malloy continued his questions. “Do you have the name of the person who rented it?”

The manager nodded. “Martin Jones. Paid cash for three days, two nights. Returned the truck a day early and didn’t come back for a refund.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed at the last name and stopped pulling up the contact list on his phone. “Do you ask for an ID when renting vehicles? Driver’s license?"

“Of course, we’re required to ask for a valid driver’s license and proof of insurance when renting any vehicle,” Danni replied.

Malloy looked over his shoulder at Tim. “Could be an alias. Not too hard to fake an ID in this town.”

Tim nodded, thinking quickly. “Do you have security camera footage of the day Martin Jones came to pick up the truck? We’ve got a sketch we’d like to compare to it.”

“Yes, that’s over here.” Danni got up to lead the two detectives over to another small room. Opening the door, several small TV screens appeared, each with a different view of the front office, the entrance and exit to the depot, what looked like a drop box, as well as a few other key areas around the property. The moving company actually occupied three levels above ground, much like a parking garage. The larger trucks with the higher clearance were parked on the first floor and the smaller vans up on the next level. The offices and storage took up the ground floor.

The manager sat down at another computer and started scrolling through the dates until she found the day before the murder occurred. Tim was impressed to see a digital system as it made searching much more efficient. Video quality tended to be better too. Scrolling quickly through the time stamps, Danni stopped abruptly on the recording from the front office. “Here we are. This is about 10 minutes before the time stamp I saw on the receipt.”

The video started playing in real time. A couple minutes in, the front door opened and a tall, lean man walked in and started talking with the clerk. He was wearing a baseball cap and chunky looking glasses, so it was hard to get a good look at his face, though that square chin was pretty distinctive. Tim heard Malloy swearing softly behind him.

He turned to Danni. “What about the cameras from when he walked across the lot to get the truck? Or dropped it off? You said he had to drop off the keys.” She nodded quickly and started pulling up other cameras and sorting the dates and times. Tim hoped there was a good shot of Schumacher’s face here _somewhere_.

Turning to Malloy, Tim asked him quietly, “If he dropped off the truck in the middle of the night, then how did he leave? Did he have a car parked nearby? He lives in Gotham Heights. That’s clear across the city.”

“Or did someone pick him up?” the other man replied. “Like his nephew?”

Danni made an excited sound, a gleeful look crossing her otherwise dour face. She was being extremely helpful when she could have easily road-blocked them. Tim supposed it was the break in monotony. “Here! Look here!” She pointed at the screen.

It was from the other night when the truck was dropped off. A tall, lean man was approaching the drop box with a set of keys. He was wearing the same hat, but no glasses. The angle of the camera provided a clear shot of the man’s face as he dropped the keys in the slot and walked away.

“Back it up and pause,” Tim ordered. He pulled the sketch Joe Campbell had provided a couple months ago and the color copy of Schumacher’s driver’s license picture from his messenger bag. He held them up against either side of the monitor, eyes darting back and forth as he compared the images.

Next to him, Malloy started fist pumping in glee.

They had a match. The face on the screen in front of them was Martin Schumacher.

***** 

Things moved quickly after Tim and Malloy made the positive ID of Martin Schumacher dropping off the rental truck in the dead of night. CSI came out and went over every inch of the truck for possible evidence. Tim was fairly certain they wouldn’t find anything, Schumacher was too careful. He was still amazed the man hadn’t put on his glasses when he dropped off the keys; that was sloppy, but then again, most of the cameras in the facility were up high, so as long as he kept his head down and covered, a clear shot of the face would not be possible. But the camera by the key slot was lower, almost eye level, so this may have accounted for his error.

Tim wondered if this was the first time he’d used this particular depot. It would explain his carelessness.

It was late by the time the two detectives arrived back at the station. They huddled around Tim’s computer as he went through the security footage frame by frame. Malloy was next to him, jotting down notes. Danni hadn’t had any issue with handing over the discs from the dates Martin ‘Jones’ Schumacher picked up the truck and dropped it off.

Pausing the video, Tim stared into the face of their killer. On the video, Schumacher looked like any other man dropping off a moving truck. If anything, he’d say the doctor looked tired rather than on a euphoric high of successfully murdering a man and mutilating his genitalia. “Why do the worst ones always look so normal?”

From his chair, Malloy shrugged. “There’s a reason why they’re called ‘psychopaths’, Drake.”

“I know. And this city seems to raise them like no one’s business.” Tim huffed a frustrated sigh. “It’s almost like this guy went and did a job he didn’t really want to do, but had to anyway. Look at him. He’s _tired_. I’d think that killing a person would maybe have given him a bit more of a rush.” He knew he was projecting, remembering the night Jason killed Black Mask. He was exhausted as hell afterwards, doubly so after getting treated for his injuries, but he didn’t sleep a wink that night. Everything that happened kept replaying in his mind for hours.

Did Jason feel this way after killing someone? Tim took that thought and shoved it in the darkest corner of his mind and locked it away tightly, but the damage had been done. The curiosity he felt was almost clinical, but he knew Jason wasn’t a true psychopath; the man was much more empathetic and in tune with others’ feelings than he liked to admit. It’s what enabled him to rip people apart with words alone if he chose. But what did he feel after killing someone? Would he feel the same when he finally had to pull the trigger in the line of duty? Tim had been a cop for almost six years now and never once had he needed to pull the trigger on his gun. Pull it, yes. Plenty of times. He’d even thumbed the safety off, had girded himself to take the shot. But he’d never needed to take that last step.

What would he feel when the time came? When he killed a person in the defense of others where there was no other choice?

He knew deep down that when that day came, the weight of Bruce’s disappointment in him would be almost as paralyzing as having taken the shot in the first place. Tim smacked himself mentally, berating himself for thinking like this. He was a _cop_ dammit. He followed the rules set out by the GCPD, not Batman. Perhaps Jason was right, that Tim really was the perfect partner for him.

“Hey, Rookie. Earth to Tim!” Malloy nudged Tim in the arm to get his attention. “Wow, you sure went space cadet there for a moment. Care to share with the rest of the class?”

Tim swallowed hard, the thoughts in his head quickly coalescing into something he could share with his partner. “Just pondering the nature of our serial killer. If Davis had been his niece’s attacker, I think his attitude would be completely different.”

“Yeah, no kidding. So what next? We’ve got enough for a search warrant.”

Biting his lip, Tim stared at the image in front of him. There was enough for a warrant for Schumacher’s house and office, as well as enough circumstantial evidence to bring him in for questioning. They’d yet to find anything solid to connect Aidan Harris to the murders though. If Josie’s thoughts about the young attorney providing a list of potential names to his uncle were correct, then a search of Schumacher’s home should hopefully reveal that link. And if not a direct link, then enough to support calling Aidan in for questioning as well.

“My concern is timing,” Tim said. “I wonder if we could get the judge to give us a sneak and peek warrant first. I don’t want to let Schumacher know we’re on to him until we know if he’s got that list or not.”

Malloy let out a low whistle. “That’s gonna have to be one convincing case to make for _that_. We’re better off with a regular warrant.”

“I think we got it,” Tim said stubbornly. “I really don’t want anything getting back to the nephew.”

“Neither do I.” Malloy looked thoughtful for a moment and then his eyes widened. He glanced around the mostly empty office really quick before leaning closer to Tim. “Or,” he whispered, “We could go another route. I remember hearing awhile back that Bruce Wayne funded Batman. If that’s true, you could ask dear old Brucie to have the big guy take a peek for us.”

Tim stiffened at Malloy’s statement, suddenly remembering the IA investigation. He hadn’t told Malloy about that yet, though he technically wasn’t supposed to. The absolute last thing he needed right now was anymore vigilante involvement. He’d told Jason and Stephanie as much this afternoon. And now, here his partner was asking that he contact _Batman_ and have him do their B &E for them.

It wasn’t a bad idea though; Tim doubted he knew anyone better at breaking and entering than Bruce. Or any of his kids for that matter, but if he was going to ask, then he’d want Batman or Nightwing to do it as they were the better detectives of the bunch. Jason was good at being stealthy, excellent in fact, but this needed a finer touch. Perhaps…Tim bit his lip at the thought that just popped into his head. It was tempting, very tempting, but it could work if he had assistance, which he knew Jason would gladly provide, and save him from having to bring Bruce back in after what he’d said to Stephanie earlier.

What did he have to lose? He was already going under the knife so to speak thanks to Black shooting his mouth off. No one would know if he didn’t get caught. It would be just him and Jason.

“Well?” Malloy asked intently. “I know it’s not by the book but I think it’s going to be better than getting the sneak and peek. And this way, we know exactly what we need for the search warrant. It’s late too and Pierce has already woken up one judge for us when we raided Sinclair.”

His partner was making a convincing argument. Tim nodded slowly. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll call Bruce and see what he can do. But I’m not calling from _here._ ”

“Duh.”

***** 

Tim walked out the back of the precinct and across the parking lot to his car. He settled into the driver’s seat of the car and took out his phone, selecting Jason’s speed dial. While it was time for Batman to hit the streets, it was still too early for the Red Hood.

“What up, stalker?” Jason answered.

“I’ve got a massive favor to ask.” Tim dove right in and explained what had happened that afternoon. “I know I told Steph I didn’t want to involve anyone else, but damn did Malloy make a convincing argument. I still can’t believe he even suggested it.”

“You haven’t exactly said what he asked yet, but I think I know.” Tim could just tell the other man was grinning.

“And?” he asked.

“And I want to hear you say it, Timmy.” He was definitely grinning. Tim could just see the man’s shit-eating grin.

He let out a tired sigh. “If you’re free tonight, Mr. Red Hood, I’d greatly appreciate it if you would instruct me in the fine art of breaking and entering and the vigilante method of obtaining evidence.” The sarcasm was evident in his voice.

“I think you’re missing something there, stalker.”

“Please.” Tim almost spit out the word. For all that he knew this was a good idea, it still galled him that he was resorting to this. Yes, he could cop out and ask Bruce, but his pride wouldn’t let him. Asking Dick was almost as bad. Both men would gladly help but asking them rankled in a way that asking Jason didn’t, for all the other man was making a production of it. He _needed_ to know whether that list Josie suspected Schumacher had even existed. And he wanted to be the one to find it.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Jason said, humor lacing his voice. “Send me the good doctor’s address and see if you can find out if he’s home tonight or at the hospital with those mad hacking skills of yours. It’ll be a lot easier if he’s working.”

“Anything else?” Tim leaned back in the seat and stared at the roof of the car. It was uninspiring, as usual.

“Give me at least an hour, better yet, two, to get everything together. Text me about the doctor and I’ll meet you at your apartment.” Jason hung up without waiting for a reply.

What did Jason need two hours for? The thought lingered in the back of Tim’s mind as he got out of the car and went back inside the station.

When he got back upstairs, Malloy was waiting impatiently at their shared desk. His was still loaded up with all the files Josie and Driver would continue looking over in the morning. “Well?” he asked.

Tim gave his partner an amused look. “I made a phone call. And now we wait.”

Malloy made a frustrated sound. “I hate waiting.”

“Then you’re in the wrong line of work, partner.”

“Screw you. So how’s this going to work? Is _he_ going to call you or have you meet him somewhere or what?” He sounded like a little kid asking when Santa was going to arrive.

“I don’t know,” Tim replied. “But I’m sure it’ll be easier if I’m alone.” He lowered his voice. “It’s one thing knowing Nightwing, but Batman’s a whole other story.”

“No kidding.” Malloy sighed and ran a hand through his mussed up hair. “You gonna call me if he asks to meet you somewhere?” He gave Tim a rather pointed look. “You’re not leaving me out of the loop here.”

He’s getting to the point where he really wished he didn’t have to lie to his partner so much. But the chance to do this with Jason was proving to be too tempting, for all he knew it was a bad idea. “If he has me meet him somewhere, I’ll call you and come pick you up myself.” That was safe enough and not technically a lie. “If he just calls me, then I’ll call you right away.” A partial lie only as he was going to call Malloy as soon as he and Jason were done later tonight.

Malloy looked satisfied with that and didn’t press any further.

They parted ways not long after. As Tim drove home, he wondered exactly what he was getting himself into. But at the same time, he couldn’t deny he was looking forward to it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh...am I putting a mask on Tim? 
> 
> A Different Point of View also will be updated very shortly with its third chapter as well, so if you want to see Malloy's side of things for Day Three, then be sure to check it out.
> 
> Next week: Tim learns the fine art of breaking and entering, Bat-style. And Jason learns just how much of a dork his boyfriend really is. Not that he minds.


	21. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter 17 – Day Three (Night)

Tim sprawled on his sofa, knees bent with his laptop propped up against his thighs. It had been the work of a few minutes gaining entry to Gotham General’s servers and he was pleased to find Schumacher had a late rotation tonight. He texted the information to Jason, but other than the thumbs up he sent back, he didn’t say anything else in reply to elaborate on what exactly he was doing to prepare for later tonight. 

Truth be told, it was making Tim a bit nervous. Now that he had some time to think about what he was about to do, he was starting to second-guess himself. Was he really about to cross the rather large line he’d long ago drawn between himself and the Bats just for the sake of his pride by not wanting to call Bruce to do his dirty work for him? That was the crux of it, Tim decided. If he was a normal detective, he wouldn’t even be doing this. He’d have made a stronger argument for that sneak and peek and wouldn’t have let Malloy convince him that ‘calling Bruce’ was a better idea. 

But he wasn’t normal. Hadn’t ever been, really, for all that he pretended to be. The Black Mask case drove that home in a way Tim hadn’t expected. And this case? Well, he’d been crossing lines almost since the beginning when he’d asked Jason to help with finding information on Whitaker. He didn’t think using his connection to Bruce to capture Sinclair was a bad thing, but after the Davis murder…well, the last few days have been quite the roller coaster ride. His pending suspension was just icing on the proverbial cake. 

In spite of everything though, Tim still thought of himself as a detective first. And as a detective, he shouldn’t even be contemplating going out to find evidence to support his and Josie’s theory about Schumacher having a list of victims. But he _wanted_ to do it, _wanted_ to have a chance at playing vigilante just once. Or twice really since this was the second time he was flying in the face of everything he thought he stood for. 

Gunshots echoed in his ears for a moment. 

At least no one was going to die tonight. Schumacher wouldn’t even be home until after 6 in the morning. 

Tim glanced at the clock on his screen and scowled. There was still at least 30 minutes before Jason was supposed to arrive. He got up and went to the kitchen to start making a sandwich. He’d skipped dinner earlier and while he wasn’t hungry in the slightest, he knew he needed to eat something. 

But Tim’s thoughts continued to race around, focusing on Jason now rather than himself. Jason…he’d been surprisingly supportive the entire time. This was certainly a case that would capture the attention of the Red Hood and now that they had a firm suspect in sight, the only thing holding Jason back from putting a bullet between Schumacher’s eyes was Tim. Right? Did Jason believe in his work so much that he _knew_ the doctor wouldn’t have any wiggle room to get out it? The thought was heartwarming, but Tim wondered if that was really it. Or was Jason stepping to the side like Bruce was and letting Tim do his own work, only to come back in when asked? 

The thought was also somewhat warming, but Tim hoped it was more than that. He wanted Jason to not kill anymore, not unless there was absolutely no choice between life and death. But one thing Tim knew for certain. He would never ask Jason to kill for him again, not now that he knew the man so much better than he did back in March. Tim knew Jason would though, if he asked. He also knew Jason would question the hell out of him first for even asking, that he’d want to know exactly what his thought process was that made him come to that decision. 

Jason was not a blind follower, but to those who knew him well, it would be easy to wind him up and send him off. In hindsight, that was exactly what Talia al’Ghul had done to him. Once you had Jason Todd’s trust, he was a powerful weapon just waiting to be used. Tim felt sick to his stomach for even _thinking_ it, but he knew it was true. He’d done it once before he even knew the man, unconsciously assuming things about the Red Hood that made it easy to justify his actions. 

Tim shook his head and slammed his fist into one of his cabinets. Pain shot through the side of his hand, but the door didn’t break. If he ever came to the decision again that someone needed to die rather than escape justice once more, he’d sooner pull the trigger himself than ask Jason. A voice in the back of his mind whispered that Jason wouldn’t want him to, that his hands were already bloody and he wouldn’t want Tim’s to be the same way. The voice got shunted aside quickly. Tim’s hands were already bloody. He was an accessory to Black Mask’s murder even if he hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger. It had been _his_ plan to lure the maniac in. It was already too late for him. 

The sound of the locks opening on his front door interrupted Tim’s thoughts. He gladly accepted the distraction and went to meet Jason. 

He was carrying two large duffel bags, one of which Tim recognized as a bag he commonly used to carry around weapons and his red helmet. He looked a bit bigger than usual, which meant he was already wearing his body armor underneath his street clothes. It was subtle, but Tim was used to recognizing the difference between when he was and wasn’t wearing it. 

“Dare I ask what’s in the other bag?” he asked wryly, leaning against the wall where the kitchen met the living room. 

Jason grinned as he dropped one bag with a _thud_ and strode over to the sofa where he placed the other one on the dark blue cushions. He looked every pleased with himself. “If you’re going running with the Red Hood, you gotta look the part, stalker.” 

Tim felt his stomach sink. “I am _not_ wearing tights.” 

“Of course not,” Jason agreed as he opened the bag with a flourish. He pulled out something black and tossed it at Tim. 

He caught it easily and shook out the heavy black fabric. It was a black shirt made of a weave that Tim suspected was Kevlar. He’d heard of clothing manufacturers that made such pieces, but they were special orders and expensive to boot. This looked like his size. Jason tossed another piece of black fabric at Tim, a pair of pants this time. These felt more like a heavy broadcloth or canvas. Rubbing his fingers against the fabric though, he felt the same weave as the shirt. He looked at Jason in confusion. “How long have you had these?” 

Jason gave him a level look and arched an eyebrow. “Long enough. I snuck a look at your sizes when I started staying over more and doing your laundry. Or burning your clothes, take your pick.” 

“But why?” 

“I told ya awhile ago I was going to slap a mask on you some night. These were supposed to be for when you went running with me, but I thought now would be a good time to christen them instead.” The words were snarky but the look Jason was giving Tim was anything but. He was nervous and trying to hide it. 

Tim swallowed and dropped his eyes back to the clothes in his hands. Kevlar reinforced clothing could be used for a lot of things besides free running. Jason had been planning ahead for the off chance Tim tossed it all to the wind and joined him. They both knew Tim wouldn’t cross or even toe half the lines Jason did, but Tim suddenly realized something he never thought of before. Jason wasn’t asking Tim to be his partner so that he could do a better job as the Red Hood. He was asking Tim to be his partner so that _he_ could be better. A better vigilante. A better boyfriend. A better brother. A better son. 

The magnitude of his realization floored Tim as he stared at the clothes clutched in his hands. He _knew_ he was right, even if Jason would never admit it. Dropping the clothes, Tim closed the distance between him and Jason. Wrapping his arms around the man’s trim waist, he leaned in and tilted his head back to return Jason’s nervous look with a calm one of his own. “Yes,” he whispered and rose up on his socked feet slightly to brush the taller man’s lips with his own. 

Jason placed his hands on Tim’s hips to draw him flush against his larger body. “Why do I feel like you’re saying yes to something else?” he asked quietly. 

Tim pecked Jason on the lips again and smiled. “Because I am. But for now, let’s break these in. What else is in your goody bag?” 

The bag contained some light body armor to wear under the black outerwear, a black jacket with reinforced shoulders and a detachable hood, a pair of black boots, a thigh sheath with a knife similar to the one he wore, a shoulder holster for a gun Tim suspected was in the other duffle bag, a pair of reinforced black gloves, a black utility belt, and a dark red domino that was eerily similar to Jason’s. It was the only bit of color in the entire bag. 

“I can wear my own underwear and socks, right?” he asked, half teasingly. 

“Well, you can skip them if you really want, but it might chafe a bit.” 

Tim laughed and started changing clothes. The new clothing was heavier than he was used to, as was the body armor. “Do I really need the extra weight?” he asked, concerned about the added weight aggravating his back. “We’re not looking for a fight.” 

Jason shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.” 

Slipping on the boots, Tim stomped his feet to make sure they fit snugly. The fit was impressive, as were the cut of the clothes. Jason had done well. Before putting on the gloves, he took the mask and left the living room, walked through his bedroom, and into the bathroom. Jason followed. 

Tim looked at the mask in his hands. It was amazing how such a simple looking thing could represent so much. He’d wanted to wear a mask for a long time and had buried that desire deep down when it became clear Bruce didn’t want him to. And now, here was Jason giving him as mask of his own. Putting it on wouldn’t change him physically, he knew that, but it would change _everything_. He may not be busting heads and running over rooftops, but he was going to fight crime in another way, to find evidence so that the legal system could do its job. He and the Red Hood would be likes ghosts in the night, slipping in and out before anyone knew they were there. 

A smile quirked on the edge of his lips at the thought. In the mirror, Jason arched a black eyebrow. “Something funny?” he asked. 

“No.” Tim shook his head. “But I just figured out what you should call me out there.” 

Jason grinned. A name was important, it inspired so much of the mythology behind the vigilantes. “What?” 

“Ghost. Since I’m not supposed to exist.” He met Jason’s eyes. 

“I like it.” Jason nodded firmly. He held up a small aerosol can. “You ready to put that on? It can take a little bit to get used to.” 

Tim looked down at the mask and turned to face Jason, holding the mask up to his face and over his eyes.

***** 

Martin Schumacher lived in a single level ranch style home in Gotham Heights. It was set back a bit from the road and had an honest to God white picket fence around the property. Tall trees dotted the large lawn; oak and maple if the leaves were anything go by. In the dark, it was hard to tell exactly what color the house was painted, but it looked like a light color with darker decorative shutters on the outside. Tim was still trying to get used to the starlight lenses built into the mask, so for all he knew, it could be the opposite. 

He and Jason drove up from the city in one of the nicer cars owned by the Red Hood. A clunker like his Impala or Tim’s beat up Honda would stand out like a sore thumb in the nice neighborhood. 

There was a neighborhood park just down the street from the house, so Jason parked there. It was late, almost midnight, so the lights were off, ideally to keep the neighborhood kids from being out late, but it also made it easier for a vigilante and a wannabe vigilante to do their dirty work. 

Jason put on his red helmet and tapped a few things on the side as it settled in place. “Okay,” he breathed, his voice already sounding different through the voice modulator. “You do what I do, step where I step. This guy’s bound to have an alarm, so let me deal with that. Once we’re in, you do your thing. Got it?”

Tim took a deep breath to try and calm his racing heart. He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this. “Got it.” 

“You’ll be fine, _Ghost_. We all start somewhere.” 

“I know; it’s just that I feel like I’m a little late to the game.” 

Jason laughed, the sound very odd filtered through the helmet. “You’ve been warming the bench. You’re ready and have been for a long time. Let’s do this.” He got out of the car and Tim followed. 

The Red Hood made his way slowly down the street, darting from shadow to shadow, carefully avoiding the pools of light from the street lamps. He was careful not to cut through backyards and wake up any neighborhood dogs. He’d warned Ghost ahead of time to watch his feet. One of the joys of the suburbs was that people tended to have larger or multiple dogs. At least in the city, they’d be cooped up in their owner’s apartments. But on a nice mild fall night like this, better safe than sorry. Tim had found the doctor’s Facebook profile, sparse as it was, and learned the man was a cat aficionado, so they didn’t have to worry about that. 

Ghost trailed after Hood, carefully watching him to mimic his movements. Stealth training hadn’t been part of Tim’s training, such as it was, so it was tricky, but it wasn’t long before they were slipping up Schumacher’s driveway. Hood darted off to the side and into the yard. He pointed at the garage door. “Motion lights,” he said quietly. “We’re going to loop around, see if there’s a side entrance to the garage. If not, we’re going in back.” 

“I can climb through a window, you know.” 

“I’m sure you can, stalker, but we’ll save that as a last resort.” 

They made their way through the yard, Ghost trailing Red Hood. In the darkness, the lenses in his mask showed everything in gray-scale. It all looked oddly bright, but he knew after looking at one of the streetlights directly that any real light would potentially blind him. Hood had shown him how to switch between the different settings in the lenses, which he would potentially need to do when they made it to the house. 

Hood raised a hand signaling for Ghost to stop. “I’m going to do a quick walk around the house for cameras or more lights. Peep in a few windows to see if I can find where the alarm keypad is. If this guy _doesn’t_ have an alarm, I’ll let you fuck me for the next month.” 

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Ghost replied teasingly. “We both know you enjoy it.”

“Just stay here and be quiet. I’ll ping you on the comm when it’s all clear.” With that, the Red Hood disappeared into the darkness. If it weren’t for the lenses in his mask, Ghost wouldn’t be able to see him at all, but even then, he disappeared quickly and silently. 

Ghost settled in against the tree and waited. He knew he was a liability at this point in the game. Vigilante work, as taught by Batman at least, was much more than pounding in faces and stringing up the bad guys from streetlights. It was deductive reasoning and logic, problem solving, stress management, mastering skill upon skill before Batman would even let you out into the night in a supervised setting. Tim had picked up bits and pieces of this training when he was younger, but it had been _years_ since he used anything other than Dick’s free running skills. Though an argument could be made for the detective aspect of the work; it was what he did for a living after all. 

But was this what he wanted to do night after night? If his little epiphany earlier was right, then Jason was ready to make a change too. There was a happy medium they needed to find somewhere and Tim felt his stomach sink at the thought of all the challenging conversations they’d have to have as there were some lines Tim would not cross and would do his damnedest to make sure Jason didn’t anymore either. At least being a cop gave him a different perspective on guns and the use of lethal force. That was one positive in this clusterfuck that his life was becoming. 

Jason was worth it. He hoped the other man felt the same way. 

“We’re clear, Ghost,” Hood’s voice chimed in his ear. Or rather, it was Jason’s voice, unmodified by the helmet he wore. “Go around the left side of the house and hug the trees. We’re going in through the back patio.” 

“Yes, sir,” Ghost replied and made his way across the yard, following Hood’s instructions. 

“So polite,” Hood teased. “I could get used to that coming from your mouth.” 

“You like my mouth for other things.” Around the back of the house, there was a short hedge cut close to the siding. It was just wide enough that it made reaching any of the windows problematic. 

“Damn straight I do and when we’re done here tonight, I plan on taking advantage of that fact.” 

Ghost skirted the hedge and slinked smoothly up the steps of the covered patio to where Hood was waiting for him by the backdoor. “You’re lucky that salve of yours worked wonders on my back. If you recall, I could barely move this morning.” 

“Nah, for what I’ve got in mind, you can just lay back in that nest of pillows of yours and let me do all the work.” The voice sounded odd, echoing as it did in the comm and through the modulator in the helmet. 

“And what, pray tell, is that?” He tried to imagine what Jason was implying for his mouth, but was coming up blank. 

“For the moment, it involves you, that mask, and nothing else. You’re a wet dream walkin’ right now, Ghost.” He could just imagine the leer on Jason’s face beneath the helmet. 

“Then let’s get in there so we can move on to more fun things.” Ghost gestured at the door. “You in?” 

“Work, then reward,” Hood agreed. He turned the handle of the security door and it swung outwards, then twisted the knob on the inner door, pushing it slowly open. “It’s your show now.” 

Ghost walked to the door and wiped his feet on the bristle mat lying there. He was pretty certain he hadn’t walked through any dirt, but better safe than sorry as he didn’t want to track anything into the house that would give them away later. Stepping over the threshold, he heard Hood doing the same behind him. 

The backdoor opened into a wide-open living space. Across the room, he spied a high top counter with some barstools evenly spaced for guests; on the other side was a large kitchen. A light was on over the sink and Ghost tapped his mask to switch the lenses over to real light. The switch from grays to color was a bit jarring and he blinked a few times to adjust before looking around. 

“I’m going to do a quick walk-through,” Hood said and brushed past Ghost. He suspected Hood just wanted to check out the man’s kitchen. 

The living room itself was large and decorated in light earth tones with a touch of reddish brown that gave it a southwestern feel. Scattered throughout the room were sculptures and other paintings that supported the vibe, though nothing was overt. Subtle, tasteful. Ghost went to the one bookcase he saw, but it was more of a curio cabinet than anything else. The few books were dry looking medical texts, but he carefully checked for anything out of place before pulling one out and flipping through it. He put it back and did the same for the other four books and found nothing. 

Hood returned to the living room carrying a large orange tabby cat. The cat was clearly enjoying the ear scratching it was receiving if the volume of its purr was any indication. “There’s an office down that hallway,” he said, pointing over his shoulder. “Bunch a’ bookcases and a big desk. Get your flashlight out, but keep the beam pointed at the floor.” 

“And a cat, apparently.” Ghost stood up and went in the direction Hood pointed, stopping a moment to scratch the cat under its chin. “Not your fault your owner is a serial killer.” 

“Outta curiosity,” Hood started as he followed Ghost down the hallway and into the large office, “what happens to the pets of convicted felons? Assuming they have any to begin with.” 

Ghost pulled out his flashlight and switched it on. He stopped in the doorway of the office, gaping a moment. The room was almost completely floor to ceiling bookcases, all packed close together. This room was obviously more lived in than the living room, but just as neat and tidy. A large, old oaken desk sat in front of the window, with the chair facing the window rather than the door. The blinds were closed, but Ghost imagined the view from the window was nicer than staring down the hallway, regardless of what was hanging on the wall. 

It took a moment to register Hood’s question. “Shelters for the most part,” he replied. “Sometimes family will take them in. Exotics get turned over to the Gotham City Zoo. Fish, depending on what they are, to the aquarium. There’s a reason we have fish tank in the office. We get a surprising amount of gold fish that no one has the heart to flush.” 

“Hmmm,” was all Ghost heard in reply. 

As much as he itched to take a look at the desk, Ghost knew it was better to at least scan the bookcases first. A person’s reading material, assuming they even read, said a lot about them. What he saw surprised him when he shone the flashlight at each shelf, standing close to shield it even though the blinds were closed. Medical journals, yes. Murder mysteries and other crime thrillers, a good selection of psychological horror novels, and a good amount of classic literature Jason would approve of. But what surprised him the most was the man’s manga collection. _Blue Exorcist, Death Note, Tokyo Ghoul, Fullmetal Alchemist, D. Gray-man_. There was one bookcase entirely full of the Japanese comics. 

It was a collection Ghost could appreciate. 

And one that gave him a sneaking suspicion he knew what he’d find in the large desk behind him. 

He strode quickly across the room and looked at the desk. A comfortable looking computer chair was neatly pushed under the desk. A narrow drawer above that contained pens and other paraphernalia above that. Ghost took a cheap ballpoint pen and untwisted the cap, taking the pen apart. He then looked closely at the three larger and deeper drawers on either side of the chair, angling his flashlight every which way. 

If his guess was right, it’d be in one of the topmost drawers, but best to be sure. 

“Need another light, Ghost?” 

“In a minute.” He opened the bottom drawer on the left side and saw a bunch of file folders. Ignoring them for now, he closed the drawer and opened the second one, kneeling down on the floor to peer closely at the underside. Nothing. He closed the drawer and opened the top one, then peered underneath. There was a small hole, just the right size for the plastic inkwell from the pen he took apart. 

Ghost stood up and carefully emptied the drawer of the few sheets of paper and envelopes it contained. Grabbing the inkwell, he angled his flashlight so he could see the hole. “Hood, I’m going to raise the false bottom here with the pen, I need you to grab whatever you see.” 

“You’re acting like it’s gonna explode or somethin’.” Hood stood over him and shone his light down. He’d taken it out at some point while Ghost was busy. 

“It just might if I do this wrong. Or at least catch fire. Ready?” 

“Ready.” 

“One, two, three…” Ghost muttered and inserted the pen, plastic end first. 

“What have we got here?” Hood took hold of the false bottom and set it aside on the desk. “Damn, but that’s an unpleasant little surprise. How’d you know it was there?” He removed a thin file folder. 

In the drawer was a device Tim had only read about in a manga he enjoyed back when he was a teenager. A nasty little surprise that included a packet of gasoline and an electric current that was designed to flash fry anything seated on top of the thin packet of gas if the false bottom was lifted up with anything other than a thin piece of plastic to break the current. “I read the manga that inspired this. When I saw it on the shelf, I just knew. Place the bottom back in, exact same way you pulled it out. There’s a small piece of plastic on one end to keep the circuit broken.” 

When Hood had everything settled in place, Ghost carefully removed the piece of the pen and stood up again. “How’re we on time?” he asked. 

Hood tapped the side of his helmet, reading something on the display on the inside. He’d joked once that the inside was kind of like the Iron Man helmet, just without JARVIS telling him what was going on. “Just after 1. We’re good.” 

Ghost nodded and reached for the folder, opening it while Hood stood over his shoulder and angled his flashlight down at the paper. 

It was a list of addresses scattered around Gotham. Ghost recognized two of them right away. One of was the location of the warehouse Whitaker was found at, the other, Davis. “There’s a camera built into your mask if you tap it here,” Hood said from behind him, a gloved hand brushing the left side of Ghost’s mask. 

“Thanks,” he replied and tapped. 

He flipped the page over revealing another list. This one had names written on it, along with a date next to each name. The first four had a thin line drawn through them, each one carefully crossed out. Ghost recognized all four of them. The first two were from the cold cases he’d identified, the second two were his own cases.

_Seth Collins_

_Chris Lombard_

_Roger Whitaker_

_Gerard Davis_

_Steve Purcell_

The last name had no such line drawn over it and the date was towards the end of October, almost six weeks from now. 

Ghost tapped the side of his mask again. “He’s got a new victim already.” 

“As much as I’m sure the shit deserves it for what he did, even I’ll agree this guy’s methods are extreme. I’ve killed fuckers like these before, but even they just got a bullet to the head. Shredding a man’s junk is just fuckin’ out there in crazyland.” 

It still chilled him sometimes how casually Hood spoke about killing a person. It also reminded Ghost of his earlier thoughts back at the station on the nature of psychopaths. Everyone had a breaking point and Tim could not begrudge Jason for having come to his, especially as young as he was and how he came out on the other side of it. “If this case hadn’t come to me, would you have done something? Both Whitaker and Davis were in your territory,” he asked curiously. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Ghost saw Hood shrug. “Hard to say. I don’t kill every rapist I catch in action, not anymore at least. I usually scare the shit outta them so bad and leave a little reminder about the consequences of their actions. The victims will sometimes get in on the beat-down too. It’s therapeutic.” Hood paused, thinking a moment before he continued. “I think I would have gone after Whitaker though if I knew about him. The fact he was involved with child-trafficking would have guaranteed a bullet. Davis was just a pig.”

His words didn’t surprise Ghost at all. “What about Schumacher?” 

“This fucker’s slippery. Not sure I would have managed to get this far without some help. And since I sure as hell won’t ask B for shit, I guess I would have come to you. Turnabout is fair play after all,” Hood finished with what Ghost knew was a dark grin under his helmet. 

That sent a chill down Tim’s spine. He hadn’t thought of Jason coming to him for assistance with anything. It was telling in and of itself that he thought of their relationship as such a one-way street when in fact it went both ways. This night was full of little epiphanies and Tim knew they needed to _talk_ when all of this was over. Jason was right though; if he came asking, Tim would help. 

“It certainly is,” Ghost agreed quietly and shifted to look at Hood directly. “But you haven’t answered my question.” 

The bigger man went very still. He knew what Ghost was asking. “If he were to walk in here right now, I’d probably shake the man’s hand before punching him in the face and breaking his hands. He’s doing what he thinks is right, but is going about it the wrong way. Torture for information is one thing; torture for the sake of it is a whole other can of crazy.” 

“You wouldn’t kill him?” Ghost asked, trying to understand what Hood’s getting at. 

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t have to make that choice this time. I’ve got you.” 

It was the perfect opening to the conversation Tim wanted to have with Jason, but this was _not_ the time or place for it. “Hold that thought,” he said. “I want to talk to you about something, but not here.” 

“Anything I need to be worried about?” 

“Nope.” Ghost turned his attention back to the file and flipped the next piece of paper over. The next several sheets were fascinating. They were copies from Miranda Harris’s case file and medical files. Tim had copies of these back at the station, but these were annotated along the margins with the same strong hand as the information on the previous sheets of paper. He tapped the side of his mask for each one. 

There were a few more sheets of paper after Miranda’s file. Old news clippings carefully pasted onto sheets of thicker cardstock. Ghost narrowed his eyes as he read the headlines. The articles were about Michael Johansen’s death almost 20 years ago. Josie and Driver were right. There was a connection to Johansen and Schumacher. What was it? It was certainly food for thought, but Ghost thought it might be better for the MCU detectives to pursue if they were going to reopen Johansen’s case file. 

“Still nothin’ tying the nephew to this.” 

“I know.” Ghost put each paper back in the folder, exactly as he found them. “Depending on how tomorrow goes, I may be able to subpoena phone records, at least for the house and his cell. Might be a bit harder at the hospital.” 

“It’s a start,” Hood agreed. “We done here?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Let me get the pen and put this away.” 

Placing the folder back in the desk took a matter of moments and Ghost quickly put the pen back together too and replaced it from where he’d taken it out of the desk. He took one final look around the room and nodded in satisfaction. “Okay, I’m done.” 

Hood turned off his flashlight and returned it to one of his many pockets. “Let’s get outta here.” 

As they left the house and made their way across the yard, Ghost marveled at just how _easy_ this night had been. He knew it could have gone a whole lot differently if the doctor had been home, but was confident he and Hood could have handled it. Or Hood really. He was positive the man knew at least a dozen different ways to knock someone out without them being aware of it. For all the Red Hood acted like a bruiser or a thug out on the streets, only a few people knew just how highly trained he really was. An assassin. 

He wondered, as he followed Hood back down the street and into the park where they’d parked the car, what exactly Jason thought of himself as. 

Hood unlocked the car and slipped into the driver’s seat, Ghost following along on the passenger side. He pressed and held a spot on the red helmet, lines from carefully hidden seams opening up and allowing him to take it off. Jason’s roguish grin appeared as he tossed the helmet into the backseat. “C’mere,” he said, reaching for Tim. 

Jason brushed a gloved hand over Tim’s cheek as he shifted, trying to lean over the center console without the manual shift digging into his stomach. He ignored the slight twinge in his back at the odd angle and eagerly met the other man’s lips with a gasp. The kiss was long, and hard, and rough, and full of so much promise of what was awaiting him when they got back to Tim’s apartment. 

Slowly pulling back, Jason gave Tim a heated look. “You better call Malloy now and make up a story for him. Because when we get home, you’re not going to have a chance to.” 

Home. Jason called Tim’s apartment home. Tim gave the man a small smile and slipped back into his seat. After buckling in, he opened the glove compartment and took out his phone. Opening the screen, he saw about a half dozen texts from Malloy and two missed calls. He read through the texts quickly and relaxed. They were all variations of if he’d heard anything back yet and slowly morphed into commands to answer his damn phone. Thankfully, his partner hadn’t left any voicemails. 

The most recent message was from about 10 minutes ago. Tim thought for a few minutes while Jason drove, then hit Malloy’s speed dial. 

It was answered before the first ring even completed. “Where the hell have you been?” Malloy practically shouted. “Jason had better have been showing you the time of your life for the past few hours as that’s the _only_ excuse I’m buying from you.” 

“We were watching a movie until about 10 minutes ago when I finally got a call back,” Tim lied quickly. He didn’t want to make up too elaborate of a story. “I didn’t see the point in answering you until I knew something.” 

“Gee, thanks, Rookie,” Malloy replied sarcastically. “Way to make me feel included here. So is he going to do it?” 

“Yes,” Tim replied. “I don’t know anything more than that he’s going to Schumacher’s house and will let me know what he finds. Apparently the doctor is working very late tonight, so he’s got a small window where he can get in and out. I should know more by morning.” Keep it simple, that was the best way. A bit of truth tossed in with the lie to make it realistic. 

“Okay, then,” Malloy said, letting out a yawn. Tim glanced at the clock on the dashboard of the car and saw it was already after 2. “I’m going to try and get some sleep then. You do the same and shoot me text with a yes or a no about the list when you find out, got it?” 

Tim smirked, knowing he was going to need to set a reminder on his phone to text Malloy in a few hours. “Got it.” 

“See you in the morning. G’night.” Malloy hung up.

Staring at his phone for a moment, Tim started tapping in the reminder and setting the alarm. It was late and he needed to make sure he got some sleep tonight before presenting Captain Pierce with the request for the search warrant later that morning. He also wanted to look over the pictures he’d taken with his mask, though first he had to figure out how to download those. He assumed Jason had a network set up, or perhaps Barbara did. 

“Hey, space cadet, you even listening?” Jason’s voice interrupted Tim’s thoughts and the typing on his phone. 

“Huh?” Tim looked up. 

“We’re here.” 

Tim looked up and realized they were parked just down the street from his apartment building. He’d almost completely spaced the entire drive back into Gotham, not that it took all that long at this time of night to cross the Kane Bridge back into the city. “Sorry,” he replied sheepishly. “Got a lot of things to think about.” 

“So I guessed,” Jason replied. “Would it be better if I just dropped you off? I know you can get up your fire escape in nothin’ flat.” 

It was a nice gesture, it really was when considering everything Tim had lined up for the next morning, but there was one thing he really wanted right now. “I believe you had plans for me?” he asked archly. “Something about me and wearing just my mask?” 

Jason smirked. “I do, but I’m also an adult and can keep my dick in check.” 

It was Tim’s turn to pull Jason across the center console. “Good thing I don’t want you to tonight. One round, then I’ve got to get some sleep.” 

“Deal.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wouldn't have turned out even half as well as it did without the help and commentary from my wonderful beta, GoAwayOlivia. Thank you thank you thank you!
> 
> Next week: THE LAST CHAPTER (unless you count the epilogue, then it's the second to last chapter). I think I might post them together instead of dragging it out into March.


	22. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to move up the posting schedule as I'd like to end with the epilogue on Friday. So here we are! The final chapter!

Chapter 18 – Day Four (Morning and Afternoon) 

Tim smirked in satisfaction at the signed search warrant Captain Pierce handed him late the next morning. Next to him, Malloy looked just as pleased. They had been at the precinct early, finalizing everything they needed for the judge along with Josie and Driver. Both men were practically buzzing on caffeine, which was odd for Malloy, but Tim knew why he was. He’d barely gotten three hours of sleep before his alarm woke him.                                                                                       

“Go nail this fucker to the wall,” Pierce ordered, looking just as smug as the two detectives. 

“Yes, sir,” the detectives chorused. 

It hadn’t been difficult to convince the judge to issue the warrant. What had been hard was keeping it quiet. The last thing any of them needed was Aidan Harris finding out about it and warning his uncle. Tim wished they had one for him too, but there was still no proof, even after his little excursion with Jason the night before. 

As they crossed the bullpen, Josie and Driver waited patiently, along with two uniformed officers who’d be accompanying them. The officers were a good pair, a man and woman Tim had worked with up until earlier this year when he got promoted to detective. Everyone looked smart and professional, even Tim, who for once wore a pair of dark slacks instead of jeans along with his normal dress shirt and tie. “We ready?” Driver asked with a grin. 

“As we’ll ever be.” Tim grinned back. “Let’s go.” 

The four detectives and two officers trooped out of the building and across the parking lot to their respective cars, the officers taking a GCPD emblazoned SUV, while Driver and Josie left in Driver’s banged up sedan and Malloy drove himself and Tim. They should technically have taken a police cruiser too, but Tim had a feeling Malloy wanted to talk about last night without the possibility of someone listening in. The MCU detectives joining them so early had prevented them from having a discussion about it. 

He was right. They barely hit the road before Malloy started. “Okay, so I know Batman found something for us, otherwise you wouldn’t be this confident this morning. So what is it?” 

Tim grinned and stalled a bit by taking a sip of his coffee. Jason had let him have a large thermos this morning, even though he was muttering something about ulcers as he handed it to him. “There is a list,” he said in a pleased voiced. “It’s got four familiar names crossed out and a new one who’s still in jail. Supposed to be released in about six weeks.” 

“Fuck,” Malloy said slowly, dragging out the word. “Where?” 

“In a desk in the office. Said there’s a nasty little trap on the false bottom and told me how to disarm it.” 

“Shit, I hate dealing with the smart ones sometimes. Evidence has a tendency to go _poof_ when you least expect it. Did he give you an idea for how to explain how you know about it?” 

Tim huffed a small laugh. “Said to look at the bookshelves first. That a nerd like me should have no problem figuring out a story.”

Malloy snorted, trying to suppress a laugh. “ _Batman_ called you a nerd?” 

“No, but that was the impression I got when he said to look,” Tim replied dryly. Not too far from the truth, really. Only someone who’d read _Death Note_ would have known to look for a trap like that. Not for the first time since last night, Tim wondered if Bruce would have found the trap and known how to disable or if everything would have gone up in flames.

“Christ, I can’t believe you got to speak with Batman last night while I was sitting around trying to watch SportsCenter and updating my profile on Match.com.” To say that Malloy sounded put out was an understatement. 

“You update that at least once a month,” Tim teased. 

“It’s better than hitting the bars! You remember the last time we went to a bar for drinks rather than work?” 

“Yeah, I got doused with a glitter bomb of some kind and was washing it out of my hair for a good week afterwards and washing my pillow cases everyday.” Jason had found it hilarious that Tim went to a gay bar with Malloy. “Jason wants to go the next time you decide to try the live scene again.” 

“Why?” Malloy asked incredulously, looking a bit startled. “You’re both taken.”

“Something about being your wingman and making you look good.” Tim shifted in the leather seat and wondered if he could switch on the seat heater without his partner noticing. As promised, Jason kept his back from straining too much last night after he’d slowly stripped Tim of his new vigilante outfit, leaving only the mask on. He practically worshipped every inch of Tim’s body. He’d also put more of the salve on Tim’s back this morning after his shower. 

“Huh, that’s nice of him. Wonder what I did to deserve that honor?” Malloy grinned. “And nice try at the distraction there, Rookie.” 

“You started it.”

They bantered back and forth as they drove across the Kane Bridge and into Bristol. Hanging a left, they headed further inland to Gotham Heights, the neighboring suburb. As they entered Schumacher’s neighborhood, Tim felt his stomach start to churn with excitement. This was it. They had their guy. And soon, he’d be in a pair of handcuffs in the back of the police SUV to be taken in for questioning. Unlike Bristol, this suburb was still part of Gotham proper, so they’d be able to take him directly back to the station rather than to the Gotham County lockup.

He looked forward to the interrogation. Would the doctor deny everything or come clean? Considering the man’s history and what his niece had let drop about the men in her family, Tim suspected it would be the former. It didn’t matter though, even if Schumacher lawyered up fast. There was enough evidence, or would be soon enough after they executed the search warrant, to arrest the man on suspicion of murder. 

How they were going to arrest Aidan Harris for conspiracy to commit murder and as his uncle’s accomplice was still up for debate. 

The three cars pulled up in front of the house the Red Hood and Ghost broke into the night before, the GCPD marked SUV blocking the driveway. In the daylight, it looked even more like a perfect piece of the American dream. Getting out of the car, Tim and Malloy waited for the others to join them and started up the driveway. He idly noticed the dark shutters he’d wondered about the night before were a deep brown against the sandy, off-white color of the siding. The exterior colors didn’t quite match the interior décor Tim remembered, but the colors were oddly complimentary. 

A couple steps up to the front porch and Tim was ringing the doorbell. As always, Malloy took point, knowing as they did that no one took Tim seriously with his still somewhat boyish looks, despite him being the lead detective. It was just after 10 in the morning, so there was a good chance the doctor was still asleep after his late rotation last night. They had learned from the hospital that Schumacher had the day off while waiting for the search warrant to come through. He had to ring the bell three times before they heard the sound of a deadbolt being thrown back. 

Through the security door (because this was still _Gotham_ after all), Tim and Malloy got their first good look at Martin Schumacher. He was tall and lean, almost skinny, with graying hair at his temples that faded back into his still mostly brownish-blonde hair. Tim knew from the man’s driver’s license records he had brown eyes. 

A finely arched eyebrow greeted the detectives. “Hello. May I help you with something?” a firm and deep bass voice asked. He sounded annoyed, which Tim could relate to if he’d only gotten three hours of sleep and someone came knocking at his door. He could just imagine the voice giving orders in an operating room, expecting to be obeyed without hesitation. It reminded him of his drill sergeant from his academy days. 

“Good morning. Dr. Martin Schumacher, I presume?” 

"Yes, that's correct. And you are?" 

“I’m Detective Gannon Malloy with the GCPD,” Malloy said, holding up his badge and their search warrant. “This is my partner Detective Tim Drake,” he gestured at Tim, who obligingly held up his own badge. Tim watched the doctor closely as Malloy introduced the others with them. It was a bit hard to tell through the security door, but Schumacher didn’t react all that strongly to being introduced to a bunch of detectives. He was going to be a slippery one, Tim could tell. 

That was okay. It made it that much more satisfying when he reeled him in. 

Malloy continued. “We have a warrant to search your house in conjunction with a series of murders that have occurred over the past year and a half in the city. If you would be so kind as to let us in, we’ll get started.”

***** 

The ringing of his doorbell woke Martin Schumacher from a sound sleep. He moaned and rolled over in his large bed. The late rotation at the hospital never failed to exhaust him, especially after receiving three patients suffering from multiple gunshot wounds towards the end of his shift. 

In other words, it was a normal night. 

But being woken up by his doorbell after pulling a 15 hour shift was not. He’d placed the _No Soliciting_ sign there for a reason. The bell rang again. 

Growling a bit, the doctor got up, pulled on a clean t-shirt and checked to make sure his sleep pants were on straight before leaving the bedroom. He padded through the large kitchen and into the more formal living room at the front of the house. Approaching his front door, he took a look out the peephole. His breath caught and his heart started beating faster at the sight before him. 

There were six people on his front porch. Four men, two women, but only one man and woman wore the uniforms of a Gotham City police officer. Schumacher suddenly understood what people meant when they said their blood ran cold in their veins. Not even in the operating room with a patient’s life literally in his hands had he ever felt this way. How could they have found him so quickly? Where had he messed up? He took a deep calming breath. _Calm down_ , he told himself. _It may not have anything to do with you. They could be canvassing the neighborhood for something else._

Whatever the reason, he'd need to call Aidan soon. The boy was supposed to be in a place where he could warn him of such events. Unless he was under suspicion too... 

The doorbell rang for a third time while Schumacher stalled. Knowing he couldn’t delay much longer, he squared his shoulders and unlocked the door. “Hello. May I help you with something?” he asked firmly, arching an eyebrow in a way that would send his residents running. 

Through the security door, he could make out the faces of the people more clearly. If he were the nervous type, he'd probably start trembling. The man directly in front of the door was a tall blonde man with angular features and blue eyes. Next to him and slightly behind on his left was a shorter man with black hair in desperate need of a haircut and bright blue eyes. He was younger than the blonde man but if he was who Schumacher thought he was, then he was the one in charge. Aidan had warned him about Detective Tim Drake. Rising star of the GCPD though he was apparently clueless about it.

It made him all the more dangerous, though his partner, Gannon Malloy, was no slouch either. After the illegal adoption fiasco, he'd done his homework on these two. Aidan was full of stories over that case. He'd warned his uncle to be even more careful the next time, giving him a few extra ideas for how to properly dispose of any possible evidence and how to hide his tracks. He thought he had, taking the additional precaution of dumping everything, including the gurney, into the river when he was done rather than disposing of the sheeting and blood in dumpsters across Gotham like he had with Whitaker. 

"Good morning," said the blonde detective. "Dr. Martin Schumacher, I presume?" 

It was time to get his act together. He was used to running on a few hours of sleep. He could do this. "Yes, that's correct. And you are?" 

A police badge was held up in reply. "Detective Gannon Malloy of the Gotham City Police Department. This is my partner Tim Drake," he gestured to the shorter man who also held up his badge, "And this is Detective Josie MacDonald and Detective Marcus Driver, who've been assisting us with our investigation." He gestured to a tall black woman with long braids and a smart looking suit and a grim looking man with dark brown hair. Detective Malloy also rattled off the names of the two officers but they didn't register with Schumacher. He knew who mattered and who didn't.

"We have a warrant to search your house in conjunction with a series of murders that have occurred over the past year and a half in the city. If you would be so kind as to let us in, we’ll get started." Detective Malloy held up a document. 

Schumacher let a look of surprise appear on his face. "What?" he asked in a shocked tone. "I haven't done anything wrong!" 

"That remains to be seen," replied the blonde detective dryly. "If you would please open the door, we can get started."

Acting indignant, he complied and unlocked the door, opening it wide for the detectives and officers to walk in. There wasn't much choice and to do otherwise would imply guilt. He was confident of his trap in the desk. _Even if they find the false bottom, they won’t know about the added security. My little trap. The file and everything in it will be gone in a flash. Perhaps one of them will burn their hand in the process. It would serve them right._

Detective Malloy gestured to the living room just off the tiled foyer. "We can have a seat here while the others start their search."

Schumacher scowled as he took a seat on his dark brown leather sofa. It complimented the set in the other room beyond the kitchen. "Please be careful with my things," he said loudly as the detectives and officers entered the house. "There are numerous pieces of some small worth and I won't hesitate to sue if anything is damaged." 

"That's part of the job," Detective Drake said with a wry smile as he walked through the kitchen. He addressed the other detectives and the two officers. "Let's start with looking for anything written down. So drawers, cabinets, desks, bookcases, and so on." 

Schumacher knew a command when he heard one and knew his earlier suspicion of Drake being in charge was spot on, despite the appearance of Detective Malloy calling the shots. The partners had a good act going on. "May I see the warrant?" 

"Of course," Detective Malloy said easily. He handed him the document. "This is your copy." 

He started reading. It contained a bunch of legalese but the gist of it was that they were looking for a notebook, folder, or binder that contained information pertaining to a series of murders. It didn't state he was a suspect but the fact they were even here said otherwise. "If you're searching my house, then this means you suspect me for these crimes." 

It wasn't a question but Detective Malloy took it as such. "Yes," he replied simply and didn't comment more. 

"Shouldn't you be asking me questions or trying to chat me up then?" he asked imperiously. The more the detective spoke, the more information he could possibly glean from him about their investigation. It was starting to bother him that he couldn’t figure out how the GCPD tracked him down so quickly. Where had he gone wrong? _There is still so much more work to do, so many men to cleanse until we find the ONE._

"Not quite yet." The detective's lips twisted into a crooked smile. 

Schumacher scowled but inside, he was thinking furiously. The very fact they were being so careful with him spoke volumes. They _knew_. They just needed proof. The only piece of evidence that could link him to any of those men was the list in his desk. By itself, it wasn't too incriminating. He could simply be following along with the news but Aidan had called two days ago with a new name. A name he had added to the list like he always did. There was also a list with all the warehouse locations he'd scouted out for potential sites to perform the cleansing. Locations close to water or with easy access to highways were preferable. And then there was the copy of Miranda's file, as well as the news clippings of _that man’s_ death. 

This was the first time he cursed himself for his meticulous nature and penchant for notes and lists. 

But all the documents were carefully locked away. From his seat on the sofa, Schumacher watched Detective Drake take one of the officers down the hallway that led to the spare rooms in his house. His office was there, as well as his guest room. It wouldn't be long. As much as he didn't want the folder and his notebook discovered, he almost looked forward to seeing Detective Drake's eyebrows singed off. 

He remembered Aidan's warning about Detective Drake after the illegal adoption ring came to light. The man was young but extremely intelligent. Meticulous with an eye for detail and a tenaciousness that had many at the prosecutor's office thinking he was better suited for the FBI than the GCPD. Aidan was in no position yet to have any influence with the District Attorney over who investigated what crimes on the local level. It wasn't uncommon for cases to be reassigned and they both knew their work would be discovered at some point and the dots connected. But serial cases were sent to the MCU down at the central GCPD station. For some reason, after Davis's cleansing, the case went to Drake and Malloy rather than following protocol. 

A higher hand at the GCPD had to be involved. 

Schumacher hated office politics, believing himself to be above such petty concerns, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to play the game or recognize when it was being played around him. Someone was testing Drake. Or Malloy, but it was more likely Drake as there was nothing Aidan had discovered about the blonde man that stood out, other than being openly gay. 

Drake though, he had connections, if he ever wanted to use them. The only child of former Gotham business magnates with Bruce Wayne as his one-time foster father. Oh yes, he read the society pages and learned of Drake's little outing with Bruce Wayne and Stephanie Brown-Wayne the night before Ross Sinclair was arrested. The columnist had waxed poetic over the young couple and Drake's tragic story. He hadn't been in the society pages since but that didn't mean anything. People like the Wayne’s were only in the news if they wanted to be. 

Did Drake know he was under the microscope? 

From the other side of the kitchen, he heard a loud _hiss_ and one of the men curse as Nicodemus made his displeasure known. Apparently someone had stuck their hand in the cat’s den. Schumacher spared a momentary thought of concern over what would happen to his cat if he were arrested before focusing on more pressing concerns over what would happen to _him_. 

Detective Malloy had said they were investigating him for murders done in the last year and a half. That meant he and Drake had somehow connected him to the murders he and Aidan had done right after Miranda’s assault. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see how; he’d been using his scalpel even then, wanting, _needing_ , to hear those men cry and scream for mercy. Aidan didn’t have the stomach for the actual work, but he still wanted to help, believing as his uncle did that they’d get their hands on the right man one day. That he’d attack again, and when he did, they’d be waiting. 

Miranda would have her peace and she’d finally be able to move on and get out of that shelter where she’s reminded of her tragedy day after day. Schumacher truly believed she’d come around and take her rightful place in the family to become what she was always meant to be. _Someone of consequence._

From a purely clinical standpoint, the doctor wondered what Drake would make of the _other_ part of his file, if he were to find it. _What would he think if he knew about my connection to HIM? Admittedly, that was not my best work, but I was still very young, so some allowances can be made. Aidan tried, he really did, but once the DNA profiles came back, he lost his nerve there for a while._ He chuckled darkly to himself. _What would the good detectives think if they knew this was all his idea? That I found him with his hands around someone’s neck, choking the bastard and watching the life fade from his eyes, all in a misguided attempt to avenge his beautiful sister, the light in all of our lives who was breathing through a tube in her throat THAT I HAD TO PUT THERE._

Schumacher took a few calming breaths. That night when Miranda appeared on his ER table could easily be the second most traumatic thing to have ever happened to him. _Damn if I was going to let anyone else get their hands on her. No one even comes close to my level of skill, not even Rhodes. Michelle has potential; her hands are steady. The leave of absence the higher ups forced on me afterwards as “punishment” for saving my niece, my light, was a farce and everyone knew it._

"You're awfully quiet for a man whose house is being searched," Detective Malloy interrupted Schumacher's thoughts. 

"You know as well as I do that as soon as you ask any real questions I'll ask for my attorney. It is my right after all." Even without his glasses, the doctor looked down his nose at the other man. 

The detective looked nonplussed. "Of course. I guess I'm just used to a more vocal crowd." 

"This isn't exactly a neighborhood known for harboring criminals." 

"That could be changing here real soon," Detective Malloy replied with a smirk.

"I have nothing to hide," Schumacher stated firmly. "I'm a well respected surgeon and have saved thousands of lives over the course of my career. I'm not a murderer." 

"That so?" Detective Drake reappeared from the other side of the house. He looked smug and his eyebrows were still in place. "This tells me otherwise," he said, holding up a very familiar folder.

Schumacher could feel the blood draining from his face. He thought he had good control over his reactions, voluntary and otherwise, but he did not expect his notes would be exposed to the world like this. _They were supposed to go up in flames_. 

Detective Malloy pulled out a pair of handcuffs and gestured for the doctor to stand up. 

He did stiffly, not breaking his gaze from Detective Drake. "How?" was all he asked.

A crooked smile appeared on the young man's face. "Nice manga collection. I loved _Death Note_ when I first read it. Still have it too." 

From behind him, Detective Malloy grabbed hold of his wrist to place the first cuff on. "Dr. Martin Schumacher, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law..."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be interesting to end with Schumacher's POV since that's how the story started. A few loose ends will be tied up on Friday, but for the most part, you'll have to wait for Part 5 if you're super invested in Tim and Jason's talk. It will be an interlude like Boys of Summer was between this and the next big case.


	23. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my fricking god, it's finally the end.

Epilogue  

_A few days later..._

Tim held up his glass, accepting the toast from the people around him. As promised, Commissioner Gordon, Captain Pierce, and Captain Mendoza, as well as Josie and Driver, were buying rounds of drinks for Malloy and Tim in celebration for arresting Martin Schumacher for murdering four men. They were still trying to build a case for the oldest murder Josie and Driver found, but it was only a matter of time. From the other papers in the folder Tim recovered from Schumacher’s house, there was a strong indication the doctor had something to do with it. The DA's office was having a field day with this one. 

Pierce clapped a hand hard on Tim's shoulders. "That was some damn fine work you two did. Who'd have thought the good doctor would be tripped up by a comic book?" 

"Manga," Tim corrected but Pierce waved his hand. 

"Semantics." 

"I still think its bullshit that the Rookie was suspended today." Malloy was a few drinks in and was starting to lose his filter. "I mean, come on! We still have so much work to do in putting the case together." 

"Settle down there, son," Gordon said calmly from across the table. "It won't be long. IA knows there's nothing wrong and just needs to make things official. Rules are there for a reason." 

Tim shoved his elbow in Malloy's side. "You're always nagging me to take a vacation." 

"Yeah but the last time I did, you were on sick leave for a week after you got clipped by that car! I keep jinxing you!" he said indignantly. 

Everyone laughed while the blonde man pouted. 

"Don't worry, Gannon, Marcus and I'll still be helping out until Tim's back. You won't even miss him." Josie smiled from across the table. 

"No, he will," Driver chimed in. "Who else will he have to tease about their coffee habits?" The normally grim and cranky detective was surprisingly relaxed, even in the presence of two captains and the commissioner. 

"You," Josie retorted. "You're almost as bad as Tim." 

Tim relaxed in his chair as he drank and watched the people around him. It had been a long few days since they'd arrested Schumacher on suspicion of murder. Their case was coming along well and the judge at the initial court hearing this morning denied the man bail. They were very close to getting Aidan Harris arrested as an accessory to commit murder as well. He'd been brought in for some rather intense questioning but he'd lawyered up quickly, just like his uncle. 

It wasn't unexpected, just annoying. But it was part of the job. Due process and the right to a fair trial. 

The folder he and the other detectives recovered from Schumacher's house was their main piece of evidence. All the rest was circumstantial. It helped immensely they had Barnaby Smith as a witness. Even if he didn't see Davis's murder or the doctor's face, he saw enough to connect the moving van that was used to transport Davis to the scene. Forensics was still going through all the evidence collected from the van. Batman had returned the gurney and his report to Gordon the night Tim arrested Schumacher. 

The gurney turned out to be a rather helpful piece of evidence. Batman found a serial number on the inside of one of the metal tubes that made up the frame. It took a couple days, but he traced the number back to the company that manufactured it and traced the gurney to an order sent to a hospice supply store in Gotham. The gurney had been ordered by Martin Jones. The hospice store was not as helpful as the rental depot, so Driver was going back tomorrow with a subpoena to get their security tapes and records of their orders. 

The little light bulb Tim gave to Bruce was returned as well, with a note saying Robin had taken it. The bulb had a few splashes of blood on it that were tied to Davis, but no prints. Schumacher was too careful to not be wearing gloves if he even handled the bulb in the first place. 

While this was a good thing and tied Davis’s murder more concretely to Schumacher, they needed everything they could get their hands on evidence-wise as this was the only one of the four murders they had _any_ evidence for. Whitaker’s had the MO, but anything that could have linked Schumacher physically to the scene was long gone. 

It would be much easier if they could get one of them to crack. And Tim knew just who could get them to. Malloy and Josie had a meeting with Miranda Harris the next morning. Tim hoped Malloy wasn't going to be too soused to go. 

On that note, he was going to be too liquored up to drive home. He eyed the round of shots that their waitress was setting down in front of them. “Holy crap, are you trying to get me drunk?” Tim asked a bit dubiously. 

Mendoza smirked at him from across the table. “Salud,” she said and knocked back what Tim had a feeling was some of the good tequila from the top shelf. 

“Salud!” everyone else chimed in and finished their own shots. Tim manfully drank his, even though him and tequila had never been the best of friends. It was the good stuff if the smoothness was any indication, but it still burned. 

“Besides,” Mendoza said airily, “You need to relax, Drake. Look at this suspension as time to catch up on your personal life. Of which, I believe you owe me a story.” 

It took Tim a few moments to remember what she was referring to. “Oh, yeah. I guess I do.” 

Driver and Josie looked curious while Malloy just grinned. “You’re gonna love this. Our little Rookie’s got quite the history.” 

Gordon and Pierce laughed. 

Tim sat back in his chair and placed his hands comfortably over his stomach and crossed his legs. He was boozed up enough to feel relaxed and was comfortable with the people he was with. Titles and rank aside, they were his peers and people he trusted. “You want the story of how I became Bruce Wayne’s ward or the story of how I’ve dated two of his kids?” 

Mendoza’s mouth dropped open while Josie sat up straight in her chair. Even Driver looked surprised. “What the hell, Tim?” Josie said, shock evident in her smoky voice. “We want BOTH.” 

*****

Over an hour later, two more pitchers of beer, and another round of tequila shots, Tim decided he needed a ride home. The bar they were at was not too far from Central down in Old Gotham, so it wasn’t exactly like he could walk home and the thought of taking the subway made his stomach roil. Though that could have been the beer mixing with the tequila. He was glad they’d ordered a few rounds of chips and salsa but for once, he was craving chili fries. Jason would be so proud. 

Tim pulled out his phone and shot Jason a quick text, asking if he was free to give him a ride home and the name of the bar he was at. After a few seconds, he sent a second one with the cross streets. 

Things were slowing down at their table. Josie had left already, saying she needed a clear head for the morning and Malloy was starting to make noises about doing the same. He’d already switched to drinking water and had ordered a basket of fries that Tim kept stealing when his partner wasn’t looking. 

Driver was telling a story about an odd case he and Josie had investigated a couple years ago, one that was more mystery than murder for once. Tim loved those kinds of cases and almost hoped he’d get one someday. When Driver was done, Tim commented. “See, this is why all the other detectives in the city are jealous of the MCU. You guys get the most _interesting_ cases.” 

Both Gordon and Driver laughed. “And what the hell do you think you just had?” Driver asked. “I’d say a serial slicer with a vigilante bent is pretty interesting.” 

Tim waved a hand. “Yeah, but you didn’t have to see two men with their testicles cut off and stuffed in their mouths like a chipmunk gone wrong. Your case was a mystery, a real whodunit, you know?”

Malloy laughed at the chipmunk comment. “I think someone’s filter has gone down the drain.” Tim gave him a dirty look but refrained from sticking out his tongue like he wanted to. He was proud of that; at least he was able to act somewhat like an adult. He felt like a kid sitting at the adult table for the first time; he was the youngest person here by far. 

“Drake, anytime you want to see how real police work is done, you come see me,” Driver said. “I’ll show you the ropes.” 

“Yes, Drake,” Gordon chimed in. “You’re welcome at Central anytime.” 

Pierce scowled at that. “Hey, boss, stop trying to poach my best detective. You already have all the good ones downtown.” 

Tipsy as he was, Tim knew he needed to change the topic. While Pierce liked having the extra hands on board for the Schumacher case, Tim knew through another private conversation with his captain when his suspension became official that he felt like Josie and Driver were there on a recruiting mission. He didn’t need to say who. “I think I’d better switch to water if I’m going to take the subway home.” It had been almost 20 minutes since Tim sent Jason the text and he hadn’t heard back. He thought Stephanie might be a good alternative, but when he looked at the time, it was late enough she’d would be on patrol already and he didn’t want to interrupt her. 

“You could always get a cab or an Uber,” Mendoza said. 

“Nah, he’s got me,” a voice said from over Tim’s shoulder. 

Craning his head back, he blinked at Jason. “Hi,” he said and blinked some more. Jason looked funny at this angle. 

“Hi, yourself. Have some fun tonight?” Jason was smirking down at Tim. 

“Uh-huh.” Tim straightened up as Jason took Josie’s empty seat to his left, looking around the table and the bar with interest. He didn’t look out of place at all, jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket fitting right in. _Leather jacket_. Tim didn’t quite start panicking, but it was close. All Jason needed was his mask and he’d be all set to go for a night out as the Red Hood. 

Jason grinned when he saw Malloy. “Hey there, Detective. I understand from Tim I need to give the two of you a grand tour of my garage.” The man liked pushing buttons, he really did and Tim wanted to smack him in the back of the head for saying _that_ in front of his captain and the commissioner. 

For his part, Malloy went along with it, though he was giving Jason a very odd look; he almost looked startled, like Jason was the last person he expected to see here. Tim couldn’t quite figure out why, but he blamed the alcohol for that. “Amongst other things,” the blond detective replied noncommittally and took a sip of his water. 

“Jason,” Pierce said as he reached over to shake his hand. “How you doing tonight, son?” 

“Pretty good. Thought I’d better keep my evening open in case this guy needed a ride.” Jason turned his attention to the rest of the table and grabbed a couple of chips as all the cops at the table looked at him closely. Yes, they all knew he was Jason Wayne and was Tim’s boyfriend, but some finely tuned sense told them there was something _different_ about him. Tim hoped they would chalk it up to his comeback story, though he suspected Gordon knew better. 

“That’s nice of you,” Pierce replied. “Since Drake’s too busy staring at you, let me introduce you to these fine folks.” 

Jason nodded at each person in turn, though he grinned when he was introduced to Jim Gordon. “Long time, no see, Commish.” 

“It’s been awhile, Jason,” Gordon said with a slow smile. Tim could see he was amused by something and wondered what it was. “Keeping out of trouble, I hope?” 

“Nah, you know me, I always find somethin’ goin’ on,” Jason said easily, leaning back in the chair with a cocky grin. “This guy’s doing a good job of keeping me in check though.” He nodded in Tim’s direction. 

Mendoza looked curious. “You know each other already?” she asked, voicing the same question Tim wanted to ask. He was surprised at how easily Jason and Gordon were speaking to each other. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malloy perking up in interest as well. 

“I’ve known Jason since he was about 10,” Gordon said easily, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs comfortably. “I was still running patrols in those days and wasn’t afraid to head into Crime Alley.” 

Jason grinned in return. “I stole his wallet one time when he was dumb enough to leave it in his outer pocket.” 

“And many packages of cigarettes too before I switched to my pipe. Glad to see you’re doing well, Jason. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you at the annual Police Ball with your family.” 

Jason ducked his head, accepting the subtle rebuke for what it was from the old man. “I haven’t owned or worn a tux in years, Commish. Definitely not feeling the lack.” 

“Still, it’d be nice to see you with your family for once. You’ve been too much of a lone wolf since you came home.” 

Tim got the distinct impression Gordon was having another conversation entirely with Jason, just like he’d done with him last week at the precinct. It confirmed yet again that the Commissioner knew more than he let on, though Tim hadn't been entirely sure that it extended to Jason. He should have known better.

While Jason started trying to deflect, he sighed and rolled his eyes, wanting to diffuse things before they went south. “My boyfriend, the only person who would think to pickpocket a cop on a regular basis.” Tim finished his beer and stood up. The last thing he needed was everyone getting a little too curious about Jason. Malloy already looked intrigued. 

“Reformed pickpocket, Timmy,” Jason said as he got up as well, picking up on Tim’s cue. “Don’t go letting all these cops think I’m still a thief.” He grinned. 

“Well, you must be if you stole Drake’s heart,” Mendoza said with a smirk. Everyone laughed at the corny joke. “Get him home in one piece. His team needs his brain back as soon as his suspension is up.” 

“Which should be by the end of the week,” Gordon said. “Get outta here.” He waved them off. 

A chorus of good nights later, Tim followed Jason out of the bar and into the cool night air. Taking a deep breath, he felt his head clear up a bit. “Thanks for coming to get me.” 

“No problem, stalker. Never been to a cop bar before.” Jason grinned as he took Tim’s arm and headed down the street. “Parked down here.” 

Tim stumbled his way down the street while Jason laughed at him and gave the occasional arm to help keep the tipsy detective upright. He stopped beside his old Impala and unlocked the door for Tim, almost shoving him in, though he did take care to make sure the shorter man didn’t hit his head. He closed his eyes as Jason got in and started the car, falling asleep quickly. 

He woke up a bit when Jason was getting him out of the car and up the stairs into his apartment building. The elevator ride was a blur and he barely recognized when Jason started taking his clothes off. He did remember the water Jason forced on him. “You’ll thank me in the morning.” 

Tim fell into a sound sleep, Jason’s arms wrapped around him securely.

*****

The next morning, Tim awoke with a groan. His head hurt, his body ached, he was afraid to move for fear of upsetting his stomach, but he had to pee so bad he knew his bladder was what finally woke him up. Bracing himself, he slowly sat up, his legs slipping from the bed to hang over the side. It didn’t hurt as badly as he thought, so he opened his eyes. 

The bedroom was dark, but the light was on in his bathroom so he could at least see. His dark blue blackout curtains were fully closed. Tim got up slowly and made his way to the bathroom. The lights stung his eyes while he relieved himself, but he didn’t feel like vomiting at the moment, so there was a plus. He washed up a bit with a washcloth as the shower was still beyond him for the time being. 

Going back to the bedroom, he saw Jason sitting on the bed. He was holding a Gatorade, which he held out to Tim. “Morning, stalker,” he said quietly. “How’s the head?” 

Tim snatched the drink and took a few quick gulps, suddenly feeling thirsty. “Not as bad as I thought it’d be.” 

“Good. I got some water and pills in you last night before you really passed out on me.” He stood up. “You up for some food? Eggs and toast?” 

“Just toast for now.” Tim took another drink as he followed Jason out of the bedroom. 

He curled up in his armchair and stared idly at the TV while Jason puttered around in the kitchen. The clock on his DVD player said it was after 11. Malloy and Josie should be just finishing up with Miranda Harris about now. His hands clenched the plastic bottle tightly. _He_ should be the one out there with Malloy right now putting the final touches on this case. He shouldn’t be here sitting on his ass recovering from a hangover while there was work to be done. 

Tim decided he needed to do something _miserable_ to Cassius Black. He thought of a few rather nasty little malware viruses he could install on the man’s computer that would flash ads for various raunchy gay porn sites every time the man so much as turned on his monitor. 

“I know that face,” Jason said as he set a plate of lightly buttered toast in front of Tim. “You’re plotting something.” 

“Detective Black’s downfall.” Tim reached over and grabbed a piece of toast, taking a small bite. 

“Now that’s something I can get behind. What’re we doing?” 

“Up for some more B&E?” 

“With you? Always.” Jason’s grin was closer to a leer. “You’re fuckin’ hot in that mask.” 

“I like to think I’m not that bad looking without it either.” 

“Ain’t that the damn truth? So what’re you thinking about?” Jason’s grin got bigger as Tim explained. He laughed uproariously when he finished. “That’s fucking perfect, stalker. Perfect.” 

*****

Later that night, the Red Hood and Ghost stood on a rooftop in Coventry. They’d just finished breaking into Cassius Black’s empty apartment to leave Tim’s little surprise on the man’s computer and tablet. 

Hood stretched and rolled his shoulders, a wide grin on his face. He’d skipped the helmet tonight. “As much as I like a big, over-the-top revenge plot, sometimes petty revenge is much more satisfying.” 

Beside him, Ghost smiled in satisfaction. “I agree.” 

“So what’s next?” 

He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by someone else. “What’s next is someone giving me an explanation for why Tim’s with you in a mask, Jaybird.” It was Dick and he didn’t look happy if the big scowl on his face and the way his arms were crossed over his chest were any indication. 

Ghost turned to give Nightwing a small grin. “Don’t worry, it’s not a career change,” he said dryly. He was actually kind of glad to see Dick. He and Jason had talked things over and decided it was time to come out to the family (both of theirs). When he’d told Jason how Malloy had put it, even inadvertently, the bigger man had bristled because he didn’t think of himself as in the closet either. 

This was a good opportunity and from Jason’s posture, he thought so too. 

“Good to hear.” Nightwing relaxed and draped an arm over Ghost’s shoulders in a loose hug. “Heard you were suspended and got worried.” 

“Nothin’ to worry about, Dickiebird,” Hood chimed in. “I’m not going to let anything happen to him up here.” 

“Also good to hear. So do I want to know what you two were just up to?” 

“Nope,” Ghost replied with a smirk. “Just something petty that made me feel a lot better about my suspension.” 

“Okay, I can deal with petty.” Nightwing grinned. “So…now that you’re dressed for it, you up for a _real_ run?” 

Hood laughed. “Stole my line, ‘wing. This night’s long overdue, I think.” 

Ghost grinned as well. Running the rooftops of Gotham with Nightwing and the Red Hood was a dream come true. “Yes!” 

Nightwing tapped him on the shoulder. “You’re it,” he said with a smirk and started running. Hood followed quickly after him. 

Ghost watched the two men run for a moment, admiring the lines of Nightwing’s body in his skintight suit and the way the Red Hood’s powerful thighs propelled him through the night. Under his jacket, his uniform and body armor were much more form fitting than met the eye; he’d forgone the jeans he would often wear over the bottom half tonight. He smiled. It may not be the way he used to dream about, but he started running, leaping off the rooftop onto the adjacent building after Nightwing and Red Hood, chasing the former Robins into the night. 

He heard Hood shout out to Nightwing as they ran, “So Big Bird, somethin’ the stalker and I need to tell ya…” 

*****

Jim Gordon sat at his desk in his office, going through some files. It was dark outside and he kept the overhead light off, preferring to use the lamp on his desk. The illusion let him pretend he was at his desk at home instead of in the main precinct of the GCPD. He was waiting for someone. Years of working with Batman had instilled a finely honed instinct for when the man was going to come to him rather than the other way around. 

Though if he made him wait much longer, he was going to march up to the roof and turn the damn signal on himself. 

“Jim,” a quiet voice in a low tone said from behind him. 

The police commissioner no longer jumped when Batman crept up behind him. “Batman,” he replied. “Been wondering when you’d show up.” 

“I had something I needed to check on first.” 

Jim knew better than to ask. “Quite the serial killer case we missed.” He watched as Batman slowly stalked his way around the desk to lean against the wall by the door as was his usual habit. 

“Indeed.” Batman was a man of few words at the best of times, but he seemed more recalcitrant than usual tonight. 

Too bad as Jim had questions and needed answers. “I’m not going to beat around the bush and rehash things as I know you know everything already. But I have a few questions for you and I want real answers. No bullshit and no evasion.” 

Batman didn’t say anything nor did he move, so Jim took that as a sign to continue. “First, just how much of all this work,” he gestured to the files in front of him, “was Detective Drake’s? I’m not dumb, Batman, nor am I blind. I know he’s got a connection to you.” It was the closest he’d ever come to admitting he knew who was under the cowl. He very carefully didn’t think about it most of the time, but he needed to know. Was Tim Drake a mole planted in the GCPD by Batman himself? 

After a pregnant pause, Batman replied. “Almost all of it was his own work. The night he found the tarp, that was actually us. Robin was with him in the warehouse that night and he offered our assistance when Drake tracked the blood trail down the dock. He accepted and we went diving to retrieve it. I went back the next night and found the gurney before it could be washed away.” 

Jim nodded slowly as he thought over what the man said. “What was Robin doing in the warehouse? Seems more like something you would be doing.” 

Batman’s mouth firmed into a thin line. “I sent Robin to observe.” 

Raising an eyebrow at the response, Jim decided he didn’t need to know why Batman felt Robin needed to observe Detective Drake in action. He had a more important question. “Next question then, but let me preface it with something first. I think Tim Drake is one of the best young detectives to come into the department in a very long time. I want to move him to MCU where I can keep an eye on him and groom him to _be_ the best. I have plans for him. But,” Jim raised a finger and pointed it fiercely at Batman, “if he’s one of yours then all that’s for nothing. Every cop on the force has or will deal with you and your brood at some point, it’s practically a fact, but if Drake’s here for some big plan of yours, then I will make his suspension permanent and get rid of him. So…is he one of yours?” 

There was a long pause before Batman replied. “As much as I wish he was, he’s not. Tim is his own person and makes his own decisions. He made his choice long ago, as did I.” 

That was a more honest response than Jim expected and he was slightly taken aback by the hint of regret he heard in Batman’s voice. Something clicked in Jim’s mind. “Was he supposed to be a Robin?” he asked quietly. It made sense, but he was curious if Batman would confirm it. 

“He would have been if I had let him. I think he’d have been the best.” The regret was more noticeable now. 

Jim couldn’t help but feel a bit of satisfaction at that. “And now he’s one of mine.” 

Batman straightened up. “Yes. Make him great.” 

“He’ll do that all on his own.” Jim sat back in his rolling desk chair. It was a comfortable one, which it had better be considering how much time he spent in it. 

Knowing their conversation was over, Batman started back across the room to the window behind Jim’s desk, his inky black cape flowing like a shadow down his back and across the floor. 

“Before you go, just one more thing…” Jim paused, uncertain about how to continue before deciding to dive right in. “Not sure how much say you have in your kids’ dating lives, probably about as much as I have in Barbara’s, but tell the Red Hood I better not see a mask on Drake’s face now or in the future.” 

The sight of Batman _stumbling_ was a sight Jim would never forget.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I did it! It's over! Or as over as something like this can be when you know there's going to be much more in the future. A big thanks to all my readers out there who have shared their appreciation through comments and kudos. They mean a lot to me!
> 
> And a super huge thank you to GoAwayOlivia for being such a fantastic beta on this story. If you haven't checked out her amazing story, Jason Todd: The Not-So-Outlaw, you're missing out. I am honored and privileged to be her beta as well. HUGS!!!
> 
> Casebook will continue. There will be TALKS and EMOTIONS and new cases to solve. And cats. Can't forget the cats. It'll likely be at least a few months before anything comes out though as I've other things I'd like to work on first.
> 
> Until next time! :D


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